


Chiaroscuro

by Empress_Irony



Series: The Chiaroscuro-verse [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Okay definitely to come, Photographer!Au, Some smut to come perhaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_Irony/pseuds/Empress_Irony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"... Stannis Baratheon was not a man to be toyed with. It was known. He had gone from a junior photographer in his brother's fashion magazine to one of the most influential men in the industry in under a decade and, what's more, he had maintained that position comfortably. He was infamous for never using Photoshop, even claiming that it was “dishonest” and that truth was more important than beauty; the public loved it, even if ageing supermodel Cersei Lannister didn't. Then again, if Stannis' hunch was right then the Baratheons had far bigger problems on the horizon than Cersei's pride  ..."</p><p>Between long-buried secrets and new developments, Stannis Baratheon isn't entirely sure how to deal with everything going on for the first time in his life; and this is without the maelstrom of emotions that young photographer Sansa Stark ends up bringing into his professional and personal life.</p><p>This is my first foray into the world of Stansa fics as a writer, so here's hoping I don't bugger it up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: What happens when you lose everything?

**Author's Note:**

> Ned, Catelyn and Robert – 47  
> Cersei and Jaime- 45  
> Stannis – 37  
> Tyrion - 38  
> Renly – 33  
> Loras – 30  
> Margaery – 25  
> Robb and Jon - 24  
> Sansa – 22  
> Arya – 18  
> Bran – 13  
> Rickon – 7  
> Shireen – 6

Chapter One: What happens when you lose everything?

Stannis Baratheon was not a man to be toyed with. It was known. He had gone from a junior photographer in his brother's fashion magazine to one of the most influential men in the industry in under a decade and, what's more, he had maintained that position comfortably. He was infamous for never using Photoshop, even claiming that it was “dishonest” and that truth was more important than beauty; the public loved it, even if ageing supermodel Cersei Lannister didn't. Then again, if Stannis' hunch was right then the Baratheons had far bigger problems on the horizon than Cersei's pride.  
“Daddy? Daddy? May I go and play in the garden while you talk Uncle Robert, pleeease?”

Stannis jolted out of his reverie and looked down into Shireen's waiting blue eyes.  
“Well...” He looked through the French windows of Ned and Catelyn's kitchen. The youngest (Rickard? Rickon?) and the dark-haired girl (Alys?) appeared to be engaging in a leaf fight with the one in the wheel-chair (Brian?), although by some unseen power the latter seemed to be winning – credit to the boy. The elder daughter (Sansa! He knew that one!) appeared to be keeping an eye on things, with her legs akimbo and her back to Winterfell House. She seemed to have things well in hand.  
“Pleease...” Shireen prompted gently, as she stared longingly into the garden.  
“Okay, but make sure you put you keep warm and be careful.”  
“Yes Daddythankyou!” Her words bled into one as she disappeared down the corridor to find her small, yellow and black striped puffer coat.   
“Stannis? Shall we?” Ned poked his head from his office. Stannis nodded and followed him wordlessly.

Almost no sooner than he had taken a seat in Ned's very homely office, Stannis heard his brother's booming voice at the door greeting Catelyn. Without ceremony Robert Baratheon barged his way into the office and enveloped Ned Stark in a bear hug.  
“Ned, you old bugger! How's law treating you? Are those a few more grey hairs that I see?”

Stannis attempted to repress the familiar twinge of jealousy at the display of fraternal affection between his own brother and his best friend. He shook his head. He had sworn that he would put all of that aside when Ned had got him custody of Shireen; the man was honourable to the last, it wasn't his fault that Robert was a lousy brother.  
“Stannis my mannis! Made any models cry lately?” He laughed aloud at his own joke as the younger Baratheon brother resisted the urge to roll his eyes; that was one time!  
“Robert.” He nodded stiffly.  
“What's with the mysterious meeting? And why on earth couldn't we meet at mine?” Robert asked as he settled into his chair.  
“Yes, whilst it's always a pleasure to have you and Shireen here you did imply it was urgent.” He could see Ned settling into lawyer mode.

Stannis sighed and retrieved a blue card folder from the satchel at his feet.  
“Jon Arryn came to me before he died.” He handed the file over to his brother.

****************

Sansa Stark thought that her little brother and Shireen Baratheon were the sweetest thing that she had ever seen. From the moment that the girl had asked shyly if she could play too, Rickon had clearly been smitten; he had taken her hand and loudly proclaimed that Shireen was on his team now.  
“What are you playing?” The young girl asked.   
“We're throwing magic leaves at the evil wizard Bran and the wicked Empress Arya.”  
“Oh, “wicked” am I now? The kid gets himself a girlfriend and he abandons his family for love...” Arya stage-whispered at Bran. Rickon reddened and chased after a laughing Arya. Sansa shook her head and knelt down next to the startled-looking Baratheon girl.  
“Hi Shireen,” she said softly. “You used to come here a lot with your Dad, but you probably don't remember me.” Sansa herself only vaguely remembered the shy, scarred little girl from three years ago, never mind the details of the divorce her father was arranging. “You only saw me a a few times, but I've heard a lot about you from your cousins Tommen and Myrcella. My name's Sansa.”  
“Are you playing too?”  
“No, I'm just keeping an eye on everyone.”  
“But you should play!” Shireen looked horrified. “Mr Cressen says nobody should be left out during play time, that's mean!”  
“But I need to make sure no-one gets hurt.”   
“Are you a teacher, then?”  
“Well, no -”  
“That means you have to play. Only teachers aren't allowed to play at break time, and teachers are usually old and ugly,” Shireen explained patiently – as if to a younger child.   
“Yeah, San,” Arya said mockingly as she arrived back with Rickon in headlocked tow. “You don't want to turn into an old, ugly teacher like Ms. Mordane, do you?”  
“Fine...” Sansa sighed. She was twenty-two, she was way too old for all this. It was all well and good for Arya, but she had always been on the tomboyish side. She was majoring in Sports Science, running around like an idiot came with the territory for Seven's sake!

When Arya made Sansa like back in the leaves and covered her with them, because she was “the Sleeping Queen” she and the wizard were holding hostage, the elder Stark sister swore quick and bloody vengeance.  
“I'm going to be the Bumblebee Princess,” Shireen declared so solemnly that Sansa had to stifle a giggle from under the dead leaves.  
“But your cheek looks dragonish. You should be the Dragon Princess.” Sansa knew Rickon was only seven, but she still winced at the insensitivity.   
“But I like bumblebees! Daddy says I was ill when I was a baby, so that's why I have a special cheek; that means I'm not a dragon.” There was a long and considered pause before Sansa heard Rickon ask:  
“You could be my Bumbledragon Princess? Both is cooler than just one.”

So Sansa listened patiently as Ser Rickon the Wolf Knight and the Bumbledragon Princess worked tirelessly against the evil doings of the Wizard Bran and the Empress Arya – biding her time...

*************

Robert wasn't moving. He sat stock still, staring at the photos spread on the desk in front of him with his mouth slightly open. Stannis shared a concerned look with Ned; of course Ned had been just as shocked as Robert initially, but his priority had quickly become the welfare of his best friend.  
“Robert..? Are you okay?” The lawyer asked cautiously. 

Robert startled them both by bursting into booming laughter:  
““Am I okay?” What kind of fool question is that, Ned? Of course I'm bloody not okay!” Stannis was shocked to see fat tears rolling down his face. “My marriage to Cersei has never been perfect, but my one consolation was the kids. Sure, Joff's been a little shit – but who isn't at that age? I've never been a great father, not like you two” Stannis was taken aback to be included in the compliment, “but Tommen and Myrcella made me feel like I could be something better.” He burst into tears anew, all the while still laughing hysterically. “And n-now you tell me they might not be my kids, and that I've been ignoring my real kids all their lives?!”  
“You didn't know, Robert. You simply didn't know.” Ned put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
“Apparently Jon did!”

Ned's eyes sharpened again with that keen, hungry – almost wolfish – look that Stannis always associated with his “lawyer mode.”  
“Yes, how did he know?” His eyes bore into Stannis'  
“Gendry's mother got in touch with Jon Arryn before she died of throat cancer two years ago; she wanted to know that her so would be taken care of, so Jon took care of it.” Even Stannis had to wince at just how cold and clinical that sounded. “I think he went searching for the other two because he noticed the same thing I had.” He looked over at the photos again, as if to confirm the truth of his previous thoughts: None of the children mothered by Cersei had so much as a line of Robert on their faces, whereas all of the bastards looked like pure Baratheons – no matter what had been dug up about their mothers' appearances. Stannis himself had talked a little with each of them whilst he was taking their photos, and he was taken with how extraordinarily similar even some of their gestures were to their sire. “He asked me to meet each of the possibles he'd found; take a picture, talk a little – see if I saw the resemblance. He knew with my attention to detail that I'd know a fraud.”

Of course, neither Stannis nor Jon had told any of them why they were taking their photos. Gendry was under the impression that his picture was going to be printed in the prospectus for the Engineering department at KLU; his older half-sister Mya was a good prospect for the Westerosi mountain bike team, so it was easy enough to convince her that it was for publicity; and luckily for Stannis it turned out that his nephew Edric was actually a child model, so arranging a test shoot was simplicity itself. Of course, he hadn't expected his ex-wife's cousin to turn up to chaperone him – so Stannis had had the advantage of hearing the gory details from the horse's mouth, as it were. Needless to say, he had not been impressed to hear that he had not even been the first one to use his own wedding bed. No wonder the marriage hadn't worked out with a start like that.

Robert stood up and fingered the photo of Joffrey, the one from his twenty-first. A curious sort of calm seemed to have descended on him after his hysteria earlier.  
“Detail, huh?” He said morosely. “I never had much of an eye for that. Ned?”  
“Yes?”  
“Can I stay here tonight? I can't go back home. Not until... Until I know.” The man who was known as a giant of business – a warrior to the last – looked thoroughly defeated.  
“Of course, I'll just ask Cat to make up another room.” With one last squeeze of Robert's shoulder, he left the room – leaving Stannis alone with his brother and an awkward silence.  
“What are you going to do?” The younger Baratheon asked at last. Robert shrugged.  
“DNA tests, awkward divorce, get drunk and spend a lot of time thinking how I should have just married Lya...” Although judging by the way his face crumpled that was a far from unusual thought.  
“No,” Stannis sighed. “I meant about the children. Your other children. Don't you want to know them?”  
“I... I don't know. Will they even want to know me? Some fat fuck who was never their for them? I'm not sure I'd even want to know me.” He looked so dejected; Stannis could practically feel the empty spaces that the right words to say should have occupied in his head. He had been expecting anger, not this.  
“Look Robert,” he sighed. “All you can do is try to do your best by them and by yourself.” He stood up to leave. “I'll leave all of the information with you, it's up to you what you do with it.”

Robert nodded. Just as Stannis was about to turn and open the door he found himself enveloped into a bonecrushing hug. The kind he'd always seen Robert give other people. Cautiously, he snaked his arms around him and gave him a little pat on the back. Wordlessly, he extracted himself and left the room. If he had turned back he might have seen the sincerity shining out of his brother's eyes and he just could not cope with that right now.

Stannis walked along to the kitchen, half-expecting Catelyn to still be there sorting out Sunday lunch – until he remembered that someone had to take care of Robert's sleeping arrangements. He frowned when he saw his camera on the kitchen table. He could have sworn that he'd put his digital SLR back into his bag earlier. Clearly he must have put it on the table after taking pictures of the garden.

The sound of laughter distracted him from any further camera-related thoughts. He looked out into the garden and saw Shireen, running around and squealing in delight as he ran around with the Starks. His little bumblee was usually more for sitting down quietly with a good book than playing games outside; almost without thought, he reached for his camera to capture the moment. He soundlessly opened the door just wide enough for him to get a clear shot. His heart lurched a little when Shireen grabbed the hand of the youngest Stark and fell dramatically on her knees next to a pile of leaves. He was so glad he wouldn't have to deal with her dating for at least another decade – maybe he should ask Ned for tips?  
“We have saved the Sleeping Queen! Wahay!” The Stark boy cheered. Stannis frowned. What in seven hells was that about? He frowned even further when leaf pile began to move.

Sansa Stark emerged – the autumn afternoon sunlight framing her as she stood in a tumbling waterfall of russet and yellow leaves. Automatically, Stannis' finger was on the shutter. Click. The light shone through the leaves and reflected off her shining dark copper hair and pale skin. Click. She opened her eyes. Click. She threw her head and let back a bone-chilling laugh. Click. She smiled at the children with pure mischief, her hair falling about her face with leaves still stuck in it. He tried to ignore how dry his mouth was suddenly. Click.  
“I thank you for freeing me, brave children. For you see, the wizard and the Empress were stopping me from performing my evil deeds as the Queen of Winter! All shall be covered with snow!” Sansa promptly ran past all of the children, liberally covering them in leaves as she went. She cackled again her sister took it upon herself to lead the charge against her.   
“Sansa! Can you get everyone to clean up before lunch?” Catelyn called from somewhere above him.

Sansa stood stock still and looked up to an upstairs window. Click.   
“Okay Mum!” She called back. She cocked her head to the side and started plucking leaves from her hair. Click. “You heard, everyone. Time to clean up.”

Stannis quickly shut the camera off and put it on the sideboard. He got himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter – as if he'd been there the entire time.  
“Hi Daddy!” Shireen crowed as she got in through the door.   
“Hello Bumblebee, did you enjoy yourself?” He knelt down to unzip her coat for her.  
“I'm a Bumbledragon now,” she said gravely.  
“Oh. Well, I'm an old man so forgive me if I forget that.” He replied equally seriously, knowing that he probably would forget that.  
“You're not old Daddy! Davos is old,” Shireen told him with teacher-like sterness.  
“Not so very old. Anyway, go and hang your coat up. You'll need to wash your hands before lunch.” Stannis straightened up. Only to be immediately confronted by Sansa coming in through the doors.  
“Oh hey Stannis. How are you? I haven't seen you in a while.” She said with genuine brightness as she took her boots off. Oh Seven, small talk.   
“Fine, I suppose. Should Shireen have taken hers off as well?” He asked gesturing towards Sansa's sock-clad feet.  
“Oh no! Not at all! Mine were muddy because I was helping Bran clean off his wheels.” She explained. Bran! That was his name! Now if only she would say the others' names!  
“Ah. Nice socks.” Renly had once told him that small talk was all about little compliments.

Sansa blushed, remembering the pink and blue leopard print socks that she had put on this morning. She couldn't imagine Stannis Baratheon wearing anything of the like.  
“Thanks. I'm fond of them.” They were one of the comfiest pairs that she owned.

Blushing Sansa Stark was possibly one of the most intoxicating things that Stannis had ever seen. A devilish impulse wanted to see how much he could make her blush; he tried to ignore it and focused instead on a leaft stuck in her hair.  
“You've got a... Leaf.” He gestured to her head. Smith, for someone who directed people for a living his command of English was sometimes sadly wanting.  
“Hm? Oh!” She started pulling at the wrong side of her head altogether.  
“Hear, let me,” he said as patiently as he could. He reached over and gently tugged the ochre oak leaf out of her hair. “There.” His gaze locked onto her forget-me-not blue eyes. His chest constricted.  
“Sansa! We're to set the table before Mum gets down!” Arya's proclaimation from the door broke the atmosphere.  
“Sure.” Sansa left the room, presumably to put her coat away. And Stannis sat down, hoping that the table would hide a multitude of sins.

********************************

Back at home, after Shireen had gone to bed, Stannis set about uploading the pictures from today onto his laptop. He frowned. He didn't recognise any of the shots before the ones from the garden. This was not his camera. These were extrememly good photos, in their own way – but not his. There was an edge of inexperience and experimentation here that his own work had long since lacked.

He flipped back a little further on the mystery camera. People, places, random details – he was somewhat surprised to see a series of pictures of Renly with a young man. Stannis expected he would meet him in time, if the look in their eyes was anythinig to go by. Finally he got to the first picture.

There were several things which made this image unusual. The timestamp put it as at least two years older than the rest, and it seemed less considered than the others. Most of all what made it odd was that it was a picture of Sansa Stark, from the hips up in a dressing table mirror wearing nothing but her underwear and a series of dark bruises across her torso and arms.


	2. 2. You start all over again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been amazing and mind-blowing! This chapter was a bit delayed owing to technical difficulties, but here it is. Thank you so much everyone, let me know in the comments what you want to see more of! And credit to the amazing Tommyginger for the phrase "Autumn Queen," it's definitely going to be used regularly.

Chapter Two: You start all over again!

It was eight o'clock in the morning and Sansa Stark was going spare. She had turned the flat upside down, but no matter where she looked there was no sign of her beloved Seastar 3450. She could always use her spare (old) camera for work, but she had invested in a Seastar for a reason. And “invest” certainly was the right word; she had used all of her wages from her teenage part-time job (bar nameday and Sevenmas presents) to buy it, but it had been so worth it. A Seastar was the kind of camera that the photographer she wanted to be would own – someone like Arthur Dayne, or Stannis Baratheon.

The last place she could remember seeing it was in the kitchen at Winterfell House. Yes she had taken a picture of the garden before Sunday lunch, before putting it on the kitchen table so she could go and supervise her siblings. She could have sworn that she had seen it on the sideboard during lunch; but then again, lunch had been a strange and distracted affair. Stannis was avoiding looking anywhere but his plate, Sansa had been... Looking more at Stannis than she would otherwise like to admit, Robert had been distracted and glum-looking, whilst her father had definitely had his “I am a lawyer with a plan” face on. Hells, only Shireen and Rickon had been anywhere approximating normal; with the latter outright asking Robert why he looked like he had been crying (amidst much shushing). She and Arya had been practically pushed out of the door afterwards, something about Robert needing space? Whatever, Sansa had just hoped that he was finally divorcing that harpy Cersei. He deserved to be happy. 

However, now there was no camera in sight. Sansa sighed and called “Home.” On the fourth ring, her father picked up.  
“Hello? Ned Stark speaking.” Her mother must be on the school run.  
“Hi Dad, it's Sansa. Sorry for interrupting you, but I was wondering if you could check if my camera's in the kitchen? It should be on the table or the sideboard.”  
“Sure, hang on honey.”

She heard footsteps walk away. It sounded like someone was having trouble breathing in the background; poor Robert, he must really have been having a hard time of it! Eventually, her father picked up the phone again.  
“I'm sorry sweetie, I couldn't see it anywhere. I thought I saw Stannis holding a camera when he left yesterday, maybe he mistook yours for his?”  
“Oh.” Her heart sank.  
“Look, I'm going to get Robert to text you Stannis' number. I'd call him for you, but...”  
“You're in for the long haul.” She surmised. “Don't worry Dad, thanks anyway. Give my love to Robert.”  
“Thanks, he's going to need it before long. Anyway, love you - bye.”  
“Bye!”

Her legs turned to jelly as soon as Robert's text arrived. Breathe, Sansa, breathe; he might not have had the chance to upload yet. The thought of the Stannis Baratheon looking through her pictures was bad enough, without the possibility that he might have seen that one. She looked up at the picture on her wall and prayed for even a tenth of the strength she needed right now. The fact that it was a picture of Brienne Tarth as taken by Stannis himself was completely incidental. Completely. She pressed “call.”  
“Hello?” The voice on the other end barked.  
“Hello, this is Sansa Stark. Is thisthephoneofStannisBaratheon?” Her voice was unnnaturally high and breathy, and seemed to gain more speed the further she got in the sentence.  
“Sansa.” Was it her imagination, or was his voice suddenly kinder? “Sorry, I'm currently dropping Shireen off at school. Give me a moment, I detest using hands-free mode.”  
“Hello-o Sansa!” She heard Shireen call from the back seat.  
“Hello Princess Bumbledragon!”

Sansa heard a delighted squeal and something which sounded like “she remembered!” before the muffled voice of Stannis asking if she had everything she needed came through. A car door slammed.  
“Hello, Sansa? Are you still there?”  
“Yes.” She was amazed at how calm she suddenly sounded, in spite of the fact that it felt like her jaw was going to clamp shut with nerves.  
“I'm just going to pull up somewhere so we can talk properly.”

She waited for about a minute before she heard the engine cut out.  
“Parked. Now, Sansa I'm assuming that you're calling about your camera?” Stannis cut straight to the point.  
“Yes! Does that mean you have it?” Please let him not have seen. Pleasepleasepleaseplease...  
“Yes, I do. I must apologise for taking it in the first place. I own the same model, you see? So I foolishly assumed that it was mine. I did take a few pictures, but I assure you that I deleted them after uploading – so you still have all your memory space.”  
“Oh, don't worry. No harm done.” But she might have done a lot of harm to get her hands on those Baratheon originals.  
“Now, um... This is slightly awkward Sansa, but that first photo – the oldest one.” He sounded as uncomfortable as he claimed to be. “I know I have no right to an explanation, but I would appreciate one all the same. It looked... Painful and the time stamp...” He trailed off.  
“Look,” Sansa sighed with her heart sinking. He had seen alright. “You want an explanation and I need my camera back, so if you're free for lunch today then perhaps we can both get what we need.”  
“Okay.” Stannis sounded thoroughly taken aback. “Do you have a time and place in mind? My lunch hour is flexible.”  
“Could you meet me at The Dornishman's Wife, the bistro on the Street of Silk, at one-thirty, please?” If she was going to re-live emotional trauma she may as well eat something decent.  
“Certainly. I'll see you then.”  
“See you then.”

He hung up. She collapsed back onto her bed and let out a great big long breath. She was having lunch with Stannis Baratheon. That was like a film student going back in time to meet Orson Welles. If Orson Welles was a grumpy, attractive photographer with very well-defined arms. GAAAH!

*********************************

“Who's the beauty?” Davos' voice came from behind him. Stannis jumped in his office chair and clutched his chest. His lighting technician always was the only one who could sneak up on him; Stannis always assumed that had something to do with his less than savoury past.

Davos was still staring at the screen, or more specifically at the picture of Sansa Stark trying to extract leaves from her hair. There was something very thoughtful about the gesture that lent her an air of sadness and strength. The red of her hair and the autumnal notes of the leaves seemed to make her forget-me-not blue eyes and peony lips stand out against her pale skin.  
“Is she this year's centre-piece?” Davos asked, still looking at the screen.  
“No, she's someone who hasn't signed a permission form,” Stannis sighed.  
“Ah. Could she sign one? Seems a shame.” He finally turned his attention back onto his boss.

Sheer panic coursed through his veins and it must have shown on his face, because Davos' face creased into a huge, feline grin:  
“Ooh, I see!” He teased.  
“No, no you really don't,” Stannis countered.  
“It's okay, I won't judge you. It's about time you met someone new after Selyse; Marya and I will gladly babysit if you need it.” Davos laughed as he left the room, his hand already going to his pocket to text his wife. 

Stannis sighed and looked through the photos he'd taken yesterday. It would have been more honest, more honourable to leave them on the camera – but he couldn't bring himself too. The more he looked at them the more he realised they weren't just pictures, they were practically a love letter. He had placated his sense of transparency by swearing to show them to her if she ever asked specifically to see them.

He looked up at the time. Time to face the music. He picked up the canvas bag with Sansa's Seastar in and stood up.  
“I'm going to lunch!” He called to Davos before he left the room.  
“Send my regards to the Red Beauty!” Davos called back.

*********************************

Sansa's foot was pumping like crazy underneath the table at the cosy, brightly decorated bistro. She hadn't been able to focus properly all morning; externally she may have been taking portfolio photos for the new talent at Tyrell, but internally she was freaking out. Meeting Stannis, Robert's brother, at home was one thing – but meeting Stannis Baratheon, surprisingly hot high priest of truth and beauty who had happened to have stumbled across evidence of her past, that was quite another. Especially after their little moment yesterday. She had spent the entire morning trying to formulate what she had to say into words. And failing.

And now her time was up, because the man himself was coming in through the door. She tried not to think about how perfectly he filled out his long pea coat. She wasn't one to swear normally, but in the words of one of her exes: “Fuuuuck...”  
“Sansa,” he nodded as he sat down.  
“I hope you don't mind, I ordered a carafe of water for the table.” She gestured to the jug of water. “I remembered you don't drink.”  
“No, not at all.” He was surprised that she knew. He reached for a tumbler and poured himself some.  
“So.” Sansa said awkwardly. “I had no idea that you owned the same camera as me. It's nice to know that I'm on the right track!” She smiled weakly.  
“Right. About that -” Stannis began before the waitress came over. 

He waited impatiently as Sansa ordered herself the lemon and chilli chicken with chipped potatoes. He took the Dornish omelette and waited for the woman to make her way to the kitchen again. But before he could say anything, Sansa spoke:  
“I'm very grateful for you doing this, you know. I've been having to use my old Blackfyre all morning and it's been driving me mad. I forgot how temperamental the zoom is.”  
“You're a professional?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yes. Yes I am.” She huffed. She might not be at the same level as him, but really! “I'm sorry if my work didn't reflect that.”  
“No! No, that's not what I meant at all! Your pictures are very good, just left of perfect; it's just that so few people do actually do this professionally.” He explained, clearly flustered.  
“Oh, I understand.” Sansa smiled. “When you say that you're a photographer, so many people come up to you and say “oh yes so am I;” when really what they mean is that they like taking pictures of sunsets on their phone!”  
“Exactly!” He broke out into a brilliant smile that left her mesmerized. She wasn't sure that she had actually ever seen him smile fully. Soft little half-smiles with Shireen, perhaps, but never an outright grin. “Anyway, where do you work?”  
“Tyrell. I snap and put together the portfolios for our newest and most awkward talent. Although mind, it's a very good way to work on thawing a subject – no-one is more awkward than a self-conscious teenager!” 

Stannis bent down and handed her the bag at his feet without ceremony.  
“Here. I liked the ones of Renly. I hope you don't mind, but I copied them.”  
“Really? Thank you. I mean... Yes, that's perfectly fine.” She clutched the bag on her lap and blushed.  
“Sansa, what I said still stands: If you don't want to tell me anything, you don't have to, but if Shireen was in the same position I would hope that someone would talk to her if she didn't want to talk to me. I assume Ned doesn't know?”

Her blush drained away to a pallor, and she felt herself clutch the bag a little tighter.  
“No. No, he doesn't. And... I should talk. I've got nothing to be ashamed of.” She met his eyes, fierce forget-me-not to midnight blue. “Ask.”  
“Who gave you those bruises in the photo?”  
“Joffrey Baratheon. Meryn Trant. Boros Blount. Osmund Kettleblack. Mandon Moore. And it wasn't just that once, either – but that day was the worst. I still have scars on my back.” Her voice was curiously even, belying the anger burning out of her eyes. “That picture's on my computer along with the rest.”  
“The rest?” He echoed in disbelief.  
“Did you know that I used to go out with your nephew?” She asked bitterly. “Two, three years ago? At first he was nice, I thought his heart was as golden as his hair. But then he got worse. It started out with little, nasty comments; tiny drops of poison which made me feel terrible over time. Apparently I was stupid, ugly and unlovable – so wasn't I lucky to have a nice boy like Joffrey, then?” She reached over to her glass and drank. She noticed she was shaking. “Do you want to know the stupid thing? I actually believed him. I thought he was my only choice. I even allowed him to...” She shuddered visibly. “I'm not proud of myself when I look back on that time. By how much I... Allowed myself to be used.”

She was interrupted by the arrival of the food. She thanked the waitress with a gracious smile and Stannis didn't know how she was doing it. He was practically shaking with anger on her behalf; it was all he could do to not go out and beat seven kinds of shit out of his former nephew. And rest assured, regardless of DNA results it was definitely former.

Sansa picked at the chicken in front of her and smiled appreciatively:  
“This is good, you want to try some?”  
“How can you stand it?” Stannis asked. “How can you sit there and talk about chicken?”  
“Okay, no chicken for you.” She took another delicate nibble. “I have to cope, because if I didn't I would go mad every time I looked at my own face. I would sit in my room and wail and gnash my teeth in frustration with the injustice of it all. Instead, I choose to get on with my life, to go outside, get a job and, yes! Talk about a really good piece of chicken. Do you know why I left that one picture on my camera, instead of uploading it with the rest?”

She waited for Stannis to shake his head.  
“That was the day he and his goons cornered me at the offices of Red Keep magazine.” Stannis was shocked to hear the name of his brother's business. “I was interning there that summer. Joff and his friends swung by while I was in the break room; he wanted a little fun and he wanted “the guys” to share in it too.” Stannis felt sick. “I said “no.” I said it over and over again, until it became a scream. I screamed everything that I had ever wanted to in his face; I even threw a mug at him when he tried to touch me.” She giggled nervously. “I dumped the bastard, while they kicked the shit out of me, - anywhere that wouldn't show. Joff threatened to use his connections to finish my career before it had begun if I didn't get back with him, so I threatened to use the photos that I'd taken of my other injuries to ruin him.” She took a great big bite out of her chicken and swallowed. “A staff photographer was walking past and pulled me out before anything too bad could happen. But not before Joff had permanently scarred my back.”  
“How..?” Stannis didn't care that his omelette was going cold. Horror and anger had paralyzed him.  
“The mug that I'd smashed. China cuts skin very well, apparently.” This time Stannis thought he really would be sick. “I keep the picture from that day on my camera to remind me of what happens when I let someone else run my life. I am nobody's doll to be played with as they please.”

Her hand shook as she reached for a chipped potato. Stannis grabbed her shaking hand and forced her to look into his eyes. Her face was a picture of the phrase “strong enough to break.” He ran a soothing thumb over the back of her hand.  
“You know, it's the first time I've said most of that out loud. I didn't even mean to tell you all that,” she said with a weak smile.  
“I'm glad you did. How do you feel?” He wanted nothing more than to wrap the woman before him in his arms and keep her there, as if bone, muscle and cotton could keep her safe.  
“Good. Surprisingly.”  
“Thank you for sharing.”  
“Thank you for listening.” She squeezed his hand and returned her attention to her chicken. “Are you sure you don't want any of this? It's really good!”

Something approaching a chuckle rumbled out of Stannis' chest, much to Sansa's surprise:  
“Why not?”

They spent the rest of lunch talking about other things in their lives. Stannis talked about Shireen, Davos and the infamous incident with the crying model (“she was an insufferable diva!”), whilst Sansa told him a little more about her work at Tyrell and groused good-naturedly about living with her little sister and her best friend/immediate boss, (“if I want time-off, I can pay in washing-up.”) All too soon it was time for them to leave.

“I should pay!” Stannis argued. “I'm older and I'm earning more.”  
“No, I should. I'm younger and I need to pay my dues.” Sansa smirked.  
“You'll be un-manning me, if I don't pay.” His dark hair was sticking up in tufts that made him look positively boyish.  
“Was this a date? Because even so, I don't see why you should pay.”  
“This is not what I'd pick for a first date with you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could do anything about it.  
“Oh aye? What would you pick then?” She arched her eyebrow.

Stannis gave her with a considered look. He appeared to make a decision.  
“I'm going to use my right to remain silent. I might need the idea in the future.”  
“Oh?” Sansa locked eyes with him, a devilish grin quirking up one side of her mouth.  
“Oh, indeed. Hey!” Sansa had used the distraction to send off the cheque.  
“Come on,” she laughed. “Friend or not, Margaery is going to kill me if I'm not back soon.”

As soon as their coats were on, they left the warm, friendly restaurant.  
“I have to go this way,” Sansa pointed a thumb over to the right.  
“Whereas I must go that.” Stannis indicated to the left.  
“So...” Sansa was inexplicably reminded of that awkward moment at the end of a first, or second, date when you had to part ways – but you weren't sure if you were meant to kiss yet. Except this emphatically hadn't been a date. It had been about a camera and concerned curiosity.  
“So... Sansa. I am about to say two things, the first in no way affects the second. And vice-versa.” He looked almost nervous. “You are a wonderful, witty, talented person and I... I wish I had possessed half of the strength you have at your age.” Her heart stuttered; that couldn't be right! “Frankly, even at his best that scum was never worthy of you.” He scowled at the mere thought of the blonde smear of dog excrement. “Second thing.” He rooted about in his pockets and produced a business card. “If you ever get fed up of wasting your talent at Tyrell, bring your portfolio to us. There's not much further you can go there, and I honestly believe that you could go far.” He pressed the card into her hands.

Before Sansa could say anything, Stannis had already bent down and kissed her cheek. They stared at each other. Then without a word, he walked away – leaving Sansa standing there with a hand over the spot where his lips had graced her skin.

She was still in a daze when she got back to the office, pondering both his offer and the feel of his stubble on her cheek. Stannis Baratheon barely shook hands with people, never mind kissed cheeks; he must really want her to take the job.  
“Hey Stark, you're late!” Margaery called over from the door. “Tyene Sand's waiting.”  
“I am? I am! Oh sorry! Lunch overran.” 

Margaery appraised her best friend's flushed cheeks.  
“Oh I bet it did. You are so telling me every sordid detail later, boss' orders!”  
“Yeah,” she whispered as Margaery left the room. “Boss' orders.” She fingered the card for Dragonstone Studios in her pocket.

*****************************

On his way back home with Shireen, he could have sworn that his face hurt from doing so much talking at lunch. His day had very much gone downhill after he had left Sansa, with Davos teasing him about his “Autumn Queen” and asking him if “the Red Beauty” had a name. The whole situation had been made worse when Stannis decided to go to the loo, only to return to find his friend at his laptop appraising yesterday's shoot. With an insufferable smirk. Stannis had spent the rest of the afternoon indulging in violent revenge fantasies involving a tripod and his so-called nephew. It wasn't original, but it would do until he could come up with something more concrete to destroy him.

He sighed as went to his pocket to find the front door key for their flat. Maybe inviting Sansa to join hadn't been such a good idea. Davos would be insufferable, and he certainly couldn't act on certain growing impulses if she was his subordinate. It would be an abuse of power. All the same, she was too good at what she did to be denied the opportunity to progress further. He groaned as he pushed the door to, ignoring the quizzical look that Shireen gave him.  
“Bad day?” A voice asked from inside.  
“Seven hells!” Stannis almost dropped the key.  
“Don't worry, it's only me. I got the spare from under the mat.” Robert emerged from their living room.  
“Uncle Robert!” Shireen ran straight to the older man's waiting arms.  
“Hi there, Bumblebee.” Robert stroked Shireen's dark hair.  
“I'm a Bumbledragon now! Why does nobody remember that, 'cept Sansa?” Her voice came out muffled from Robert's belly.  
“Sansa? You only saw her yesterday, how do you know she remembers?” He asked his niece, indignant at losing points to a relative outsider.  
“Nuh-uh. She called this morning.” She looked up with a gleeful smile.

Stannis suddenly felt his neck grow very hot.  
“Oh yes, she did. Didn't she?” The gleam in Robert's eyes was pure mischief. Stannis didn't like that look; it reminded him of the time when Robert decided to play football in the house. And got Stannis to clean up the mess.  
“Robert, why are you here?” He pinched his nose.  
“Well, I can't very well stay with Ned until the divorce comes through, can I?”  
“Shireen, could you go and take your coat off please?” Stannis asked his daughter.  
“Okay Daddy!”

She ran off to go and put her jacket away. Stannis shut the door.

“If you're going to stay, I have a few rules” he said eventually.  
“Nice!” Robert clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Now you can tell me what it was about this phone call that got your knickers in a twist!”

Stannis glared at him as he barely repressed a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't I a stinker? Next time: Less talking! More Baratheons! Margaery and Davos as the ultimate trolls!


	3. 3: My nervous system fails me, my thoughts are becoming fugitive...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took slightly longer, guys. I've just started a new job and life is a tad on the hectic side right now; so I'm sorry if I didn't reply to your comments - I will try and be more on the ball in the future. I really appreciate all of the feedback I'm getting.
> 
> In this chapter: Phonecalls, recollections, new starts and new alliances.

Chapter Three: My nervous system fails me, my thoughts are becoming fugitive...

“Tell me!” Margaery prodded after dinner.  
“No.” Sansa sipped delicately at her mint tea.  
“Tell me!”  
“There's nothing to tell!”  
“Says you,” Margaery snorted. “You should have seen yourself this afternoon! All brilliant smiles and birds twittering in your wake; you floored Oberyn Martell with one look. Floored.”  
“Hardly,” Sansa muttered into her tea. If she was happy it was because of the card burning a hole in her coat pocket, not a certain pair of surprisingly soft lips on her skin.

Luckily for Sansa, Arya chose to come in at that moment – unceremoniously dumping her fencing gear on the floor.  
“Hey,” she waved as she went to fetch the peas from the freezer.  
“Hey,” the women on the sofa said in chorus.  
“Good training session?” Sansa asked.

Arya shrugged as she sat down and started applying the bag of peas to strategic points on her legs.   
“Got a new foil coach in, a foreign fella with really cool red and white hair. But I don't think anyone's ever told him how “I” and “you” work in English, it's “a girl must be careful not to roll her foot when she lunges” and “a man was Syrio's pupil before.”” She shook her head with a half-smile. “Gendry was being sabre-wielding bull, as usual. He had the fucking nerve to call Needle a “training weapon!” So I gave him a dead arm. One punch as well,” she smirked in satisfaction.  
“Gods Arya, why do you even talk to him if he annoys you so much?” Sansa asked.  
“Eh. He may be a pain in the arse, but he's still one of mine. It's not like I'm the easiest person in the world either.” Arya shrugged. “I'm just too awesome for mere mortals to comprehend.”

Margaery muttered something which sounded peculiarly like “Starks.”  
“Oh yeah!” Arya looked up from her aching muscles. “Dad sent me a text; he wanted to know if Stannis gave you your camera back?”

Margaery's doe eyes widened in delirious understanding:  
“Oh MY GODS! Shut UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” She squealed and flapped her hands emphatically.  
“No. Nononono! No! Not what you think!” Sansa cried.

Arya frowned. She got up to go and have a shower:  
“I do not want to... Can't be worse than last time...” She muttered before she left the room. “Knew I should have gone to the pub with Gendry instead.”

*******************************

“Have you told Cersei? Or the kids?” Stannis asked his brother as the evening news played in the background. He had consciously exiled Joffrey from the notion of “the kids.”  
“Ned's taking care of all that. The DNA testing too.” Robert scowled. “Made it a condition of the alimony.”

Shireen was sat in an armchair with a Horrible Histories book, uncaring of the conversation going on quite literally three feet away. She had been told about the divorce before dinner, and beyond noting that it was like what happened with Mummy and Daddy she didn't appear to have any strong feelings on the subject. Tormund Giantsbane's re-telling of the Dance with Dragons was far more interesting than her uncle's drama.

Stannis nodded and continued watching the story about the Braavosi yacht racing scam.   
“So, Sansa?” Robert said eventually.  
“We had lunch. I gave her her camera back. We talked. That is all.” Stannis said curtly, his eyes fixed firmly on the image of the yachtsman's widow on the screen.  
“Uhuh. And I'm Baelor the Blessed.”

The news story changed, but Stannis was no longer paying attention. He was just looking at the screen and praying to all the Gods that he could name that his brother would drop the subject.   
“I wouldn't judge you, y'know?” And apparently his atheism was more than justified.  
“Please stop talking.” He could feel his jaw clenching.  
“And it's not as though she's hard on the eyes. Hells, if she wasn't Ned's daughter -”  
“Shut up. Now.” His voice came out as a growl. Never mind his brother's meddling, his daughter was in the room! Way to make him feel like a dirty old lech!

Stannis saw his brother raise his arms in a gesture of surrender from out of the corner of his eyes. Enough minutes passed for the middle Baratheon to feel sufficiently safe to focus on the news again; only for Robert to open his mouth again during a story about the Iron Islands by-election campaign:  
“You know if you want any pointers -”

Stannis didn't even wait for his brother to finish the sentence before leaving the room. Shireen looked up from her book with a look of mild interest:  
“Is Daddy having a strop?” She asked.  
“You know what? I do believe he is.” He cast an amused look at the door. “What do you think, Shireen? Would you mind if your father started dating someone?”  
“Hm...” She looked pensive. “As long as she was kind and true. And clever, because Daddy doesn't like stupid people. And she should make him smile, - he doesn't do that enough.”  
“Shouldn't she love him?” Robert asked.  
“Of course they should be in love. You don't need to say that, do you?” Shireen frowned.  
“Sometimes I forget that you're only six, Bumbledragon,” he said with a soft, sad smile.  
“I'm nearly seven!” She pointed out indignantly.

******************************

Margaery was the very definition of insufferable in the days that followed. She kept asking if Stannis had called yet at random moments, (invariably when they were talking with other people) and asking when the second date was; the first time she had asked that it had been in front of Margaery's shrewd grandmother – the head of Tyrell – who had, of course, immediately demanded details. Sansa was mortified. And then there was the job offer to consider.

A place at Dragonstone. That was something beyond her wildest dreams, - the things that she could learn! And Stannis had been right: Artistically and professionally there was nowhere further for her to go at Tyrell, unless she became an agent. And yet something made her hesitate.

She could still remember the first time that she had met Stannis properly. Of course, he had been a figure on the fringe of their lives for as long as she could remember – Robert's brother, the photographer – a seldom seen face who occasionally showed up at parties. She had been home for the weekend from university and had been using the time to sort out the composition plans for her end-of-year exhibition in class. Her mother had warned her that Stannis was there as a friend who needed help, so she wasn't to bother him with questions about photography or to make him feel uncomfortable. They had been re-introduced briefly when he arrived with Shireen; he was curt to the point of rude. Sansa had shrugged it off. Just because someone was a great artist, it didn't make them a great person – she knew that.

Sansa had given the three year-old Shireen some of Rickon's crayons and one of her spare pads and stayed in the living room to supervise her, bringing her work down. After what seemed like hours, Stannis finally came back in. Sansa hadn't thought him handsome at that moment; he was scowling and his hair looked as though he had been running his hand through it in distress. He didn't have Robert's faded glamour, or Renly's friendly splendour. He was just... Dour. A dour ugly duckling. Then he looked over Shireen's shoulder at her attempt at drawing a bee and gave a soft, amused half-smile. And suddenly, he was a very fine swan indeed. Shireen prattled on, as Sansa watched from behind her pad, and showed him some of her other drawings:  
“... And here's you and me and Mummy! And a cat. His name is Patches...”

It had been brief but the look that had passed through Stannis' eyes had been devastatingly sad. Somehow Sansa knew that he wasn't sad for himself, or for the end of his marriage. He was sad for his daughter and what it might mean for her.  
“You, Mummy and I, Shireen. Not you, me and Mummy.” He murmured. 

After he had left she considered what had happened carefully. Her mother was always saying to her that “courtesy is a lady's armour,” maybe Stannis' was his gruff attitude? She couldn't imagine that it was easy being Robert's brother growing up, nor would it have been so working with clients in the fashion industry. After that she had scrapped her previous plans and based her end of year project on “different kinds of armour.” She had received an A*. After that, Joffrey had happened and she didn't think about Stannis for a very long time. Not until after.

A growing part of Sansa wanted to be one of the few people that saw him without his armour on. She had been granted glimpses – small, intoxicating glimpses that left her yearning for more. Lunch at The Dornishman's Wife had allowed her to see more of the man behind the photographer than ever before, and now she desperately wanted to see the full picture. But if she wanted to work at Dragonstone she had to be professional. She had to foresake the man in favour of the photographer.

It was thinking on these matters that drove her to her broom-cupboard of an office on Friday afternoon. Here she could lock out Margaery and think it through on her own, if only she hadn't thought about it a thousand times before... What she needed was a fresh perspective. Someone who quite honestly wouldn't give a damn whichever one she picked... Sansa smiled and picked up her phone.  
“Sandor Clegane, who the fuck wants to know?” A voice growled after the dial tone.  
“Hey Sandor!”  
“Little Bird! Finally decided to take me up on that hit?”

Sansa chuckled. This is what she needed right now.  
“Oh I wish...”

**************************  
Monday had rolled around again and a week had passed since Stannis had pressed his contact details into Sansa's hands. And she hadn't called. As he set up the studio for a test shoot he didn't know if he felt disappointed or delighted; disappointed that he would be denied seeing her daily, or delighted that he was potentially now free to explore his more... Inappropriate thoughts.

He stood back and surveyed the set. He frowned. There was something not quite right about the way that the white cloth was falling over the screen in the background...

“The creases in the cloth aren't deep enough. It makes the lighting look shallow, rather than dramatic.” A distinctly feminine voice said from behind him. He whipped round to see Sansa standing not four feet away from him.

Sweet and strong Sansa Stark was still in her coat and scarf, a look of quiet triumph on her face as she looked at the set – as though she had just pinpointed something vague and intangible which had been annoying her. She looked at him and smiled, genuine pleasure lighting up her face – with a hint of mischief lurking at the edge. That couldn't be right. Women didn't look at him like that. They looked at Robert like that. And Renly too, until he made it plain he was gay. And women like Sansa really didn't look at him like that.  
“Hello,” she said simply.

He took it back. There were no women like Sansa Stark. After a few seconds of staring, he realised that he still hadn't said anything. Or noticed that Davos was standing behind Sansa with the most infuriatingly smug smirk on his face.  
“Um, yes well. Hello. How may I help you?” He asked.  
“Well, I wondered if the offer of a job was still open? Pending a look at my portfolio, of course!” A touch of pink spread across her cheeks. 

Stannis looked at her a moment, desperately ignoring the desire to run his thumb across the apple of her cheek.   
“You seem to think you know what's wrong here. Fix it,” he gestured at the set behind him. He stared evenly into her eyes. He was gratified to see the steel in her gaze.

Wordlessly she walked over to the hanging cloth, and pinched and smoothed alternately.  
“There! You've got better shadows now with your lighting set up,” she said as she stepped back. Dark and interesting shapes and lines now proliferated where flat, shallow crinkles had been before. Sansa looked over at Stannis, hope shining out of her forget-me-not blue eyes.  
“I've seen your work before. You may as well take your coat off and look as though you're staying,” he said finally.

The broadest smile lit up her face. If he had been blown away before, now he was reduced to a pile of ashes; but as long as it was a pile of ashes at her feet, he didn't care.   
“Thank you so much, you shan't regret this!” She stepped forward and squeezed his hand in an approximation of a shake. He smelt the same citrus and sandalwood notes that had haunted him for days after kissing her cheek. Then in a flash, she had disappeared – gone to hang up her coat, doubtless.  
“Well, I've heard of “you had me at hello,” but this is the first time that I've seen it in action.” Davos smirked.  
“Shut up,” Stannis growled.  
“Never. So the Autumn Queen's a fellow photographer. Huh? And I'm assuming a pretty damn good one for you to give her an open invitation.” The raising of Davos' brows asked all the questions that needed to be.  
“I'm not my brother,” he scowled. “I won't be lead about by my cock. She has genuine talent, Davos. More than I ever did at her age.” He winced at how old he was making himself sound in comparison to her. “Which is why you are going to say nothing about your infatuation theory.”  
“Theory,” he scoffed.  
“Yes, it will have to remain a theory as long as she works here. As well as being grossly inappropriate, what will people think if I lay a finger on her? That she slept her way here. The world is unkind to professional women, even more so to one in love.” Stannis gulped and looked away, checking that she wasn't at the door. “And besides, she might not want an ugly, cantankerous man who is closer to her father's age than her own...” He trailed off, seeming sad and bitter even to himself.  
“Stannis...” Davos started. Stannis looked away, unable to bear the compassion in his friend's eyes. “Stannis, you shouldn't put yourself down like that. There's plenty that would be glad to be with you, and you would do well to ask the lady herself before you decide who she doesn't want. 'Cause I've never seen someone smile that bright for someone they cared nothing for.”

Stannis nodded and walked away to the back of the room, ostensibly to get the tripod – but in reality he had to process what his best friend had just said.   
“I'll take her through the paperwork and what she has to do.” Davos said before he left the room. Stannis nodded again and returned his attention to the tripod, and away from impossible dreams.

***************************

True to his word, Davos talked Sansa through her contract and warned her that she would probably be more like an assistant photographer at first and only, only, if she proved her mettle would she be allocated work in her own right. Davos didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look so ecstatic to get a demotion.  
“So, you said that you worked for Tyrell? Do you have any notice that you need to work out with them?” He asked her in the office.  
“Oh no. They let me go on Friday with good wishes; one of the perks of being friends with the boss. Although, it's not as though my role was irreplaceable; my, that's depressing to realise!”  
“Huh. What would you have done if Stannis hadn't given you the job?” It seemed like a pretty big gamble to Davos.  
“Gone freelance.” She shrugged. “I have some money set by, and I'm not entirely without contacts myself. Regardless of the job offer, Stannis was right: There was nowhere for me to go at Tyrell. It was time to spread my wings and move on.” Sansa smiled softly.  
“That took guts.” He slid the contract across the table. “If you're half as gutsy as I think you are, you'll do well here.”   
“Thanks.” Her smile turned a touch wolfish as she signed on the dotted line.  
“Welcome to Dragonstone Asylum, where the doctors are as mad as the patients!” Davos held his hand out to shake hers.  
“I'm sure I'll fit in just fine, then” Sansa said as she took his hand. He was beginning to see what Stannis saw in her.  
“Come on. We've got a meeting with Kingsguard soon, we should make sure the conference room's tidy.”  
“Kingsguard?” She half-yelped as they left the room.  
“Yep,” Davos chuckled. “It's all designer brands and prima donnas from now on, except for when it's onions and swans.”  
“Onions and swans?” She frowned in confusion.  
“We get all sorts of commissions here, not just fashion shoots. In the early days it was just me and Stannis, so we multi-tasked. We once had to take a load of pictures of onions for a textbook, - the different stages of growth etcetera – and it took weeks, weeks! It was a technical nightmare! Course now I'm pleased as punch with the pictures. ”  
“Ah. And the swans?”  
“Remind me to tell you how I lost my fingers some time.” He grinned. However as they went into the meeting room, Sansa could have sworn that she heard him mutter: “Swans. Fucking psychopaths....”

**************************************

If you had told Sansa a week ago that she would be sitting in on a meeting with the marketing manager of Kingsguard cologne, she would have politely laughed you off. And yet here she was. In a meeting with Barristan Selmy and his team. Like you do. Internally, she was screaming hysterically. Apparently the test shoot set-up was destined to try out a few new faces to represent their latest fragrance (“Contradiction”), and today's meeting was about deciding who those faces might be.  
“What about him?” Arys Oakheart pointed to one of the pictures on the desk. ““Jon Umber?”” He read aloud

Stannis shrugged.  
“Perhaps he'll test well.”

Wordlessly Selmy slid the picture into the “no” pile.  
“How about this one?” Oakheart pointed to an image with the words “Harry Hardyng” scrawled along the bottom.  
“He looks angular enough. Invite him to the test shoot.” Stannis gave a terse nod.

Selmy frowned at the table.  
“What about this one?” He pulled a picture towards him. “I know it isn't precisely the look that we discussed before, but there's something very Kingsguard about him...” Sansa's heart thumped as she recognised her own work from Tyrell on the table.  
“I agree, there's certainly something very... Contradictory about him. However, I hear on the grapevine that he might be seeing my younger brother – so perhaps I cannot be perceived as an impartial judge. Davos?” Stannis asked, clearly remembering the photos of Loras and Renly on Sansa's camera.  
“The boy may be prettier than most women I've seen, but there's no mistaking him for anything but a man. There's something quite fierce about him here. What d'you reckon Sansa? You've worked with him.”  
“Uh...” All of a sudden all eyes in the room were on her, politely awaiting her response. “I've found him to be incredibly professional and versatile, and I also think of him as the male version of Brienne Tarth.” She felt her cheeks redden as Barristan Selmy raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Because you see, Brienne is a woman with stereotypically “mannish” features – such as height and muscle – but for all that she exudes her own brand of femininity.” She found herself growing more confident as she spoke. “It's the same with Loras; he's relatively slight and beautiful with curly blonde hair, - hardly the most masculine description in the world, - but you still wouldn't pick a fight with him down an alley because, as Davos said, there's no mistaking him for anything other than a man. And a tough one at that.” Sansa smiled, lost in the memories of every time he had given someone an earful for commenting on his very public relationships with other men.  
“Well, if that doesn't embody “Contradiction” I don't know what does! Put him on the test pile.” Selmy ordered Oakheart.

Stannis turned around and gave Sansa one of his increasingly common soft, half-smiles. She didn't notice Davos rolling his eyes as her heart fluttered.

The rest of the meeting was going very well – until Selmy made a final suggestion:  
“I know he's your nephew, but what about Joffrey Baratheon? He's got good pedigree, good features – might be good for the brand? Family working together?”

Sansa could feel herself turning a shade of sour cream. She couldn't. No way in hell was she going to -  
“I think not. Whilst my nephew has more than a touch of the young Jaime Lannister about him, he has a lot of growing up to do.” Stannis frowned. “He would cost you a lot in hush money and bad publicity, and uh... Just between us and these four walls?” Selmy nodded. “Something rather big's going to come out soon, and I suspect you won't want your brand associated with his “pedigree” anytime soon.”  
“Quite right. Thank you for being so transparent with us, Stannis. But I must ask: This big something. It won't tarnish you as well, will it?”  
“No. I swear it.” He emphasised the point by tensing his jaw.

Selmy nodded. Stannis Baratheon's word was iron-clad. It was known. Not too long after that both parties agreed to meet again for the test shoot on the morrow. Soon it was just Stannis and Sansa in the room, as Davos escorted their guests to the door.  
“You didn't have to do that, you know? About Joffrey. I could have been... Professional. If you needed me to be.” Even she could taste the lie on her tongue.  
“Sansa. As long as we're working together you will never have to be professional with scum like that; he doesn't deserve space in your thoughts, never mind your courtesy. Besides everything I said was true, the boy doesn't deserve to be modelling – never mind getting a prestigious account delivered onto his lap.” Stannis' scowl deepened.  
“Everything?” Echoed Sansa. “So that part about a scandal; was that just the divorce or..? Forget it. I shouldn't have asked.”  
“Probably not. But let's just say certain facts are going to come to life about Joffrey's “pedigree” are going to come to light soon in a very public manner.” Stannis allowed himself a small smirk. He couldn't wait to see his ex-nephew's expression when all the entitlement that he felt came with the Baratheon name was stripped away from him.

White hot triumph flashed briefly over Sansa's face as she connected the dots, before her expression dropped:  
“But what about Myrcella and Tommen, aren't they..?”  
“Almost certainly not.” Even Stannis felt a pang of regret. Those two had never been anything but nice to Shireen.  
“Poor them.”  
“It's better for them in the long-run.” Stannis insisted. “Better for them to be hurt by the truth than to live a lie. And the law should protect them from paparazzi intrusion.”

Sansa nodded, a sense of sadness still clinging to her as she thought about a blameless little boy who loved his kittens and a girl with dreams of seeing the world.  
“No wonder Robert was so cut up,” she murmered.   
“Mm...” He agreed. “We're still figuring out how to proceed.”  
“What a mess.”  
“Indeed.”

Then there was nothing more to say. Just a man and a woman looking at each other with nothing in between but silence. Dense, confusing silence that neither were brave enough to breach. Stannis swallowed - a tiny tic that betrayed his nervousness, a sliver of the man underneath. Sandor's advice from earlier rang in Sansa's ears: “Life's too short for fucking around. People are going to spout shit no matter what you do – so you may as well go for it!”  
“Um, listen Stannis – if you've got time before you pick up Shireen -” she began.  
“Yes, Shireen! I need to go and... Pick her up.” He made his way to the door. “Goodbye, Sansa.”  
“Bye...” She said weakly, as Stannis all but ran out of the room. Had he been going a little slower in his panic he may have noticed Davos leaning on a wall outside the open door, with his head in his hands. He left before Sansa could see him.

*******************************

LordOfTheOnionRings: The first session of the Stannis and Sansa Are So Painfully Obvious I Want To Knock Their Heads Together Society (SSASPOIWTKTHTS)is officially open!

ThornyRose: … Not a v catchy name, is it?

Steel_Stag: Yeah, not great.

LordOfTheOnionRings: Fine! What do you suggest, then?

ThornyRose: …

LordOfTheOnionRings: See! It's quite hard.

ThornyRose: Shaddup.

She_Wolf has entered the conversation.  
BullBoy has also entered the conversation.

She_Wolf: Hey losers, what did we miss?

ThornyRose: Wait, did you bring someone with you?

She_Wolf: We were out together. He might be able to offer some insight – a fresh eye n all that. Besides it's better than him watching me type all evening

BullBoy: Hey everyone.

LordOfTheOnionRings: Hello

ThornyRose: Hey ;)

Steel_Stag: heu

Steel_Stag: *Hey

ThornyRose: We were just arguing over names. Davos suggested Stannis and Sansa Are So Painfully Obvious I Want To Knock Their Heads Together Society (SSASPOIWTKTHTS).

BullBoy: Not v catchy is it?

ThornyRose: SEE!

Steel_Stag: How about Project Get Stannis the Mannis Layed

Steel_Stag: *Laid

She_Wolf: Sounds like a 70's sex comedy. Does Dad know ur trying to set up ur bro w my sister??

Steel_Stag: ...He will be happy that we're family at last afterwards.

She_Wolf: … Moving on, I suggest Operation Dumbass – cos they are both being dumbasses from what Marge has said.

LordOfTheOnionRings: That's not very nice

She_Wolf: The truth hurts.

BullBoy: Guys, I kno I'm an intruder here bt shdn't u all jst be talkin about... I duno. Lockin them in a cupboard.

Steel_Stag: I like his style. Why can't we just do that?

LordOfTheOnionRings: Hm... I have a thought. But I'm going to need your brother's help Margaery.

ThornyRose: Kewl, when?

LordOfTheOnionRings: Tomorrow afternoon.

Princess_Bumbledragon: You should get Robert to pick me up, or Daddy might not stay long enough.

LordOfTheOnionRings: Shireen!

She_Wolf: Shireen, you were here all along??!

Steel_Stag: Yeah, some1 had to show me how to register. Figured she shd be in on it – since she has a stake in it.

Princess_Bumbledragon: I want Daddy to be happy and I like Sansa.

ThornyRose: Daddy???! She kept that one quiet!

BullBoy: “Daddy,” how old are you? 5?!

Princess_Bumbledragon: I am nearly 7! 

BullBoy: This is messed up.

She_Wolf: Gendry's right. Robert, we're having words later. This is messed up.

Steel_Stag: Sweetie, can you log off please? It's dinner time soon.

Princess_Bumbledragon: Okay. But tell me everything later! Bye guys!

Princess_Bumbledragon has logged out.

She_Wolf: What the actual hell?

Steel_Stag: She IS his daughter

She_Wolf: Yeah n you suggested Project Get Stannis the Mannis Layed! Not cool, dude. Not cool.

LordOfTheOnionRings: Not to mention you've probably got her hopes up. What if nothing comes of it?

Steel_Stag: Fine. Bad move in hindsight. She was so excited and... Yeah, I'll do damage control later.

BullBoy: Eh. It came from a gd place, man. Now let's finish plotting romcom shit so I can go and take Arya to dinner already

ThornyRose: Take her out to dinner, eh? Something you're not telling us, Arya Lyanna Stark?

She_Wolf: No comment.

Steel_Stag: So. Gendry. That's an unusual name. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from "Your Urge" by Maximo Park, the titles for chapters 1 and 2 came from "Apply Some Pressure" - also by Maximo Park, (anyone else sensing a theme here)? The chat room idea is inspired by the amazing ikkiM's Fantasy Football series - which you should all totally read as it's gloriously funny.
> 
> For those of you unaware, the Horrible Histories series by Terry Deary is a set of books dedicated to telling kids about history in a funny, non-patronising manner, and leaving all the gore in. It's been teaching history to kids better than schools for about 20 years and it's the kind of thing I reckon Shireen would read. Deary himself is famously cantankerous and anti-establishment and I felt that Tormund was a good fit. (That and I have a soft spot for the character).
> 
> NB: I'm on tumblr as empress-irony, in case you want to share cracky thoughts about fandom.
> 
> Next time: The Kingsguard auditions! Davos' plan in action! Two idiots realising they were idiots!


	4. 4.  … But when I'm in your arms, there's not much more that I can give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! The Gods were really set against me on this one; what with work, a wrist injury, and a case of suspected food poisoning. Fun times! Anyway, this is it. The one you've all been waiting for. Minor smut warning ahead!

Chapter Four: … But when I'm in your arms, there's not much more that I can give 

Stannis really ought to have been suspicious when Robert volunteered to pick Shireen up from school that day, but he was feeling too stressed by Davos' sudden news that the Kingsguard shoot was probably going to overrun its allotted slot – something about the Tyrell boy having to come later owing to the short notice? Either way, Stannis was not impressed. And to top it all off, Shireen couldn't find her homework! The morning had been a mess of phonecalls, turning the flat upside down and running late; so Robert's uncharacteristic desire to be helpful later was welcome, so he didn't question it as he perhaps ought to have. He was too busy being stressed and questioning himself over the rather intimate role that his assistant had played in his dreams the night before...

Sansa really ought to have started asking questions when Margaery demanded she change out of her white blouse.  
“No! That looks way too “little girl!” You want to convince them that you're a stone-cold badass not to be fucked with; save the innocent and wide-eyed routine for normal office days.” She had insisted, handing her something else from her wardrobe instead.  
“But nobody's going to be looking at me,” Sansa grumbled as she took the black shirt offered. “Besides this has no arms, it's autumn!”  
“So take a cardi. And honey, you're a newbie; everyone's going to be looking at you.”

Sansa sighed. Marge was right. Sandor always wore that great big leather jacket of his to make an impression, (to “scare the fuckers” as he put it). But she still didn't see what was wrong with wearing white. Yet.

In spite of Margaery's sartorial interference she arrived on time at Dragonstone. In fact, she arrived a few minutes before a very flustered Stannis.  
“Hey,” she greeted him. “Fancy a tea?”

He stared at her for a few seconds. Sansa waved a hand in front of his face, assuming that he had short-circuited after some unknown stress at home:  
“Hello? Earth to Stannis?”

He jolted.  
“Sorry. I don't know what... Yes. To tea. Black with lemon, please. No sugar.” And then he was gone, no doubt disappeared into his office to grab some peace.

Sansa made the tea and made her way to Stannis' office door. Finding herself holding two mugs, she may or may not have resorted to knocking on the door with her foot.  
“Come in...” A voice said from within.  
“Um... I can't. My hands are full.” She heard scrambling and muttering before the door flew open.  
“Oh Gods, sorry. I should have thought of that,” he apologised as he took his cup. “Thank you, by the way,” he added as an afterthought.  
“Don't mention it.”

Silence. Awkward, impenetrable silence followed. Stannis took a sip of his tea; his face contorted in an expression of pleased surprise.  
“It's perfect.” Ordinarily if anyone but himself made it, it would be insipid and weak – no-one believed that he could truly enjoy bitter black tea, even with the lemon.  
“Thanks.” Her grin took on that edge of wolfish mischief that he found so enticing. “You struck me as the strong and bitter type.” Her tone betrayed the jest behind the words.  
“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that you're one of those heathens that takes milk and sugar?” He peered down into her mug.  
“I am highly offended, sir! What do you take me for? Just because I like milk it doesn't mean that I like my tea entirely devoid of flavour!”

Sansa was gratified to see something like amusement shining out of her boss' dark blue eyes. This is what she had wanted the other day, before he had all but run out of the room; just the two of them, chatting over hot drinks. Admittedly, she had imagined a patisserie setting (she knew a lovely place not too far away that did an amazing tarte au citron) and a covert game of footsie under the table, but she would take what she could get.  
“I don't know. Looks pretty flavourless to me.”  
“You're just jealous of my milk.” She took a sip and smacked her lips together in exaggerated satisfaction to make her point.  
“I think I'm more likely to be jealous of your cup,” Stannis retorted with a waggle of his eyebrows that left no room for doubt over what he meant.

Sansa felt her jaw drop open as an incredulous smile spread across her face. Now THAT was more in line with her patisserie scenario!  
“I'm sorry, I don't know what... I should just. Um. Paperwork.” Horror and dismay spread across his features before he unceremoniously slammed he door in her face. She couldn't help but feel a little smug as she walked away. At least she knew he was interested for sure now; that was half the battle won. 

Paperwork? Paperwork?! Seriously? Stannis smacked his hand against his head as he sat down. And why on earth had he said that?! He had thought it and then he had just said it! He hadn't meant to, it had just... Come out. The way her mouth had pressed to the mug and her tongue had darted out to catch a drop of tea from her top lip had simply been obscene. That small gesture had nearly driven him mad with images of her luscious, peony lips pressed to his skin, around him. Was this because of last night's dream? He sat down. His jeans were becoming unbearably tight.

A horrifying thought struck him: He was switching places with Robert. He was becoming horrifically distracted by lewd thoughts, lusting after a younger woman and giving her a significant amount of room in his head. Robert, meanwhile, was showing signs of developing into a good father. Only last night he had told Stannis that he wanted to give the Lannister woman's children the choice to still consider him their father, and he wanted to get in touch with his biological children. Robert had even gone as far as to say that he was going to cut down on his drinking. Him, of all people! The thought of becoming his older brother was certainly enough to ease the pressure in his trousers.

*************************************

LordOfTheOnionRings: Uh... Stannis is hiding in his office and Sansa is sitting in the kitchen looking terrifying. Shd I be worried?

ThornyRose: Angry terrifying, or smiley terrifying?

LordOfTheOnionRings: The 2nd one.

ThornyRose: Oh good. She's got her game face on. That makes things so much easier.

LordOfTheOnionRings: …

**********************************

Barristan Selmy and his team arrived bang on time to oversee proceedings and to assess if the prospective spokesmen were truly “Kingsguard material.” Luckily he didn't realise how studiously Stannis was avoiding eye-contact with his assistant photographer, or else he may have started asking serious questions. Even more luckily, he was focused on thinking who on earth the young redhead with good ideas reminded him of...

The first candidate to arrive was Harry Harding. After swaggering into the room with a smile, the first thing he did was to ogle Sansa's arse the second her back was turned. Stannis had scowled and put a mental black mark next to his name. As lovely as she looked in black skinny jeans that was absolutely no reason to be so unprofessional. If Stannis himself could resist the urge to push her against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless, then this arrogant pup could keep his eyes to himself. But a professional is as a professional does, so Stannis still took the photos. He frowned. Composition-wise, they were perfect – but the eyes seemed so dead and flat. Was this just a reflection of how Stannis was feeling about the whelp? That seemed hardly professional. He motioned Sansa over.  
“This isn't too dissimilar to what you did at Tyrell, is it? Have a go and see if he really is dead behind the eyes.” He muttered as he put his camera into her hands. Her eyes widened, but Stannis glad to see her nod and not shy away from her duty as a photographer. He nodded over at a mildly alarmed Selmy in reassurance. He trusted that she knew what she was doing.

Sansa immediately felt herself stand a little taller with the Seastar in her hand. This was where she belonged: Behind a camera, not hovering awkwardly on the sidelines waiting for a something to do. She strode up to the set.  
“Hey Harry, I'm Sansa. I'll just be taking a few shots of you to finish off with, okay?” Smiling sweetly as she was when she asked the question, her tone brooked no dissent.  
“Take whatever you like, babe.” His eyes slowly raked over her body. Ugh. She hated this type. It was always impossible to get them to do anything productive.  
“Uhuh. Eyes up Hardyng and lets get this show on the road.” She could have sworn that she heard Davos guffaw from somewhere...

Very soon, Sansa forgot that this wasn't her set. She had Harry chatting and laughing in no time; apparently he had a very young daughter himself – although he was no longer with the mother. By the time the next model was ready Sansa was feeling rather more charitable towards him, - even if she still hated the apprasing manner which he looked at her. She handed the camera back to Stannis for Ronnet Connington with some regret.

She waited with trepidation as he flicked through her pictures. He looked up and gave her a small smile.   
“Very good. Next time try and play with where the subject is in relation to the light for a more varied aesthetic. Shadows are your friend, within reason.”  
“Thank you, I'll bear that in mind for next time.” She nodded, absorbing the first constructive criticism that anyone had offered her in a long time.

Neither Stannis nor Sansa ended up being particularly impressed by Connington as a model or a person. He was unable to follow an instruction the first time, or satisfactorily after that. Somehow all points always ended up returning to Brienne Tarth and what an overrated heifer she was, and he should know! They used to share the same agent once upon a time. Even Selmy shook his head. If he couldn't keep his gob shut near a potential employer, Seven help him in front of the press. Stannis was rather glad to see the back of him; he had personally found Ms Tarth to be nothing less than a professional and talented subject. And he may or may not have been severely irritated by the increasingly pointed remarks about redheads sticking together. Maybe.

Lyonel Frey came as a breath of pure fresh air. Not because he was particularly talented or charismatic – far from it, one rather got the impression that he wouldn't say boo to a goose, - but because he kept his eyes precisely where Sansa asked him to. Quiet and just happy for the opportunity he may have been, but at least Stannis didn't have to worry about potentially cleaning his blood off the floor later. Sansa herself merely empathised with the poor boy; he looked as starstruck as she sometimes felt.

Loras rolled up later than his original slot, as he had arranged with Davos, flashed a smile around the room and got straight to work. For all his charms there was something very sharp shining out of his eyes; Stannis could see why his younger brother might fall for him, speaking of which...  
“So, how long have you been seeing my brother?” He enquired not entirely casually.  
“Did you pull me in here to give me “the talk?”” Loras' smile took on a feral quality.  
“Sadly, no. That's just a bonus.”  
“So what are you going to do now? Tell me that they'll never find the body?” He peered over his shoulder in a pose which looked playful from afar, but looked like a taunt from where Stannis was standing.  
“Hm. You pick up a lot in this line of work; for instance, I know that whilst physically we're about even, you've had far more practice fighting. I know a brawler when l see one,” he added – seeing a brief look of puzzlement flit over the younger man's face. “But rest assured, hurt my younger brother and I will find a way to end you professionally.”  
“That's a big threat for a brother you're not all that close to.” Smiling defiance seem to radiate from his every pore.  
“True. We haven't seen each other as much as we should have, but if you think that's going to stop me, well, I suppose that would make you as much of a brain as I am a prize beauty.”

The entire room jumped, startled by the roaring laughter that Loras let rip after staring a moment at the photographer.  
“Stannis Baratheon – making a joke! Wait until I tell Ren!” He wiped tears of mirth out of his eyes. 

The man himself muttered that it wasn't that funny and diligently kept pushing his finger down on the shutter.

****************************************************

Sansa was glad that Margaery had insisted on the sleeveless shirt, in the end. By the time they had reached her portion of Loras' shoot, she was quite overheated – her deep umber cardigan lay long-since abandoned on a chair in the corner. Her and Loras fell into a rhythm, warm and familiar from all the times she'd been over at the Tyrells' house. Loras was all charm and mischief with her.  
“You remind me of the babe!” He said with a smile.  
“What babe?” She called back from behind the camera.  
“The one with the power.” He froze in a quasi-mystic pose for her.  
“What power?” She stepped to the side, so the light was coming from behind Loras – throwing him into a semi silhouette.  
“The power of voodoo.” He gave her his profile.  
“Who do?” She pressed the shutter.  
“You do.” He looked down.  
“Do what?” She knelt.  
“Remind me of the babe!” He gazed up, as if in revelation.

Fully aware of the incredibly professional men in suits behind her gawping, she took a moment to review the shoot so far. It looked... Great. But uneven. She was struck by an idea.  
“Hey, Loras.” She raised up her Seastar, taking care to zoom in on his bust.  
“Hm?” He looked up.  
“Imagine Renly was in a car accident. A really bad one. And you don't know if he'll make it.” She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that the brother of the man in question was standing just behind her.

The look on Loras' face was pure devastation. The subtlest creases of despair appeared to carve themselves into his face. Sansa pressed the shutter before spoke again.  
“Now imagine that the person driving was just fine. Barely a scratch. And they're trying to tell you that it wasn't their fault.”

The despair shifted until sharp, cold unforgiving anger shone out of his face. His lips curled into the disdainful sneer that they always did before he tore someone a new one. Sansa swallowed, slightly scared of this new expression, and diligently took pictures.  
“Okay, I'm done.” She said after less than a minute.

****************************************

ThornyRose: Update?

Captain_Rainbow: We're done here. Just asked the target to go & get me a coffee 4 the shock.

ThornyRose: Shock?!

Captain_Rainbow: R lttle baby's got GOOD. 

ThornyRose: ???

Captain_Rainbow: Long story. Bob sent the text yet?

LordOfTheOnionRings: What text?

ThornyRose: The one tellin Stann the Mann not to fret, cos he's taking Shireen to Greyjoy's for dinner.

LordOfTheOnionRings: Oh. That's nice. I like the burgers.

Captain_Rainbow: I like the calamari and chips. Ooh I could really go for some chips right now...

Thorny_Rose: Guys, shut up! I'm hungry & at work!

Captain_Rainbow: OOOOoooooOOOOOOh!

LordOfTheOnionRings: ….

LordOfTheOnionRings: His phone just buzzed!

Thorny_Rose: That's ur q. Good luck mon ami.

**************************************

Stannis sighed as he put his phone away. He was glad that his older brother was using his leave to help him out, he really was – but he still wondered where his sudden enthusiasm for texting and messaging had come from. He wouldn't mind, but they were invariably badly spelled, or just plain missing vowels; it gave some of Robert's longer missives the air of a cryptogram. Was this part of his endeavour to be a good father, all this espousal of modern means of communication? He looked up in time to see Davos come over.   
“Do you want to upload and review the shoot while I see the suits out? You don't look like you're in the mood.” His best friend asked him with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder.  
“Yes, thank you. I think I shall.” It was always such a relief working with Davos; he knew that he couldn't bear the corporate self-congratulation that happened after every single little milestone achieved. Stannis disappeared into his office, unaware of the smirk on his friend's face as he pocketed Stannis' own set of keys. Sometimes it paid to have a criminal record.

*************************************

By the time Sansa emerged from the toilets, the studio was empty. She huffed. Scrubbing her top must have taken longer than she thought. Loras had got slightly too excitable when gesturing with his coffee mug and had sent the last third flying onto Sansa's blouse. Luckily, it had been lukewarm – but there had been a definite brownish stain on the black material that had only shifted after a lot of scrubbing in the sink in the loos.

She could hear tapping in Stannis' office. He must be working late. She shrugged. She had worked hard today, she was going to treat herself to a Pentoshi takeaway when she got home. She picked up her bag and coat and went for the door. The handle wouldn't turn.  
“Stannis?” She called. “Can I have your keys? It looks like Davos accidently locked the door behind him.”

He came out of the office with a slight frown on his face. He tried the door to no avail. He put a hand in his jeans pocket. His frown deepened as he groped mid-air.  
“My keys are gone,” he said. “I put them in my pocket earlier, I definitely remember doing that.”  
“Maybe they fell out of your pocket in the office?” She suggested with just an edge of panic creeping into her voice.

Twenty minutes later every last square inch that they could reach without unlocking something had been searched to no avail. Stannis stabbed Davos' contact details on his phone once more.  
“Damn it!” He exclaimed. “It's still just going through to voicemail.”  
“So it looks like we're stuck here until Davos picks up?”  
“Or morning. Whichever comes first.”

It was difficult to say which one of them felt more dismayed.

***************************************

“Don't pick up.” Margaery ordered Davos from behind her plate of fish and chips, as his phone buzzed. Again.  
“I know.” His words were slightly muffled through the mouthful of onion rings he was chewing on. “Marya won't either.”  
“Daddy says you shouldn't speak with your mouth full,” Shireen piped up as she dug into her scampi.  
“Yeah, Davos! And Daddy knows best!” Robert smirked before popping a slice of gammon into his mouth.  
“Never mind Daddy, where's my food?” Loras whined. Having arrived and ordered last, he was left nursing his diet coke to kill the time it took for his dinner to arrive.  
“Want a couple of chips while you wait?” His sister offered.  
“Ohmygods thank you!” He exclaimed as he dug in.  
“Do you think Daddy and Sansa are in love yet?” Shireen asked Margaery in a nervous undertone.  
“Okay, first's thing: They're probably already basically in love. We're just helping them realise that they are,” she reassured the almost seven year-old. “And second thing, sweetie: You are so adorable! Can I keep you?”

Shireen seemed to seriously consider this before saying:  
“That would probably make Daddy sad. But you can borrow me sometimes, as long as I still go to school.”

Margaery squealed and pulled her into a hug:  
“Call me Auntie Marge! It will be true soon enough anyway!”

Robert looked up and glared at the Tyrell siblings:  
“What was that?”

Loras looked as though the earth couldn't swallow him up soon enough.

****************************************

“Are you sure that you don't want me to ring the fire brigade,” Sansa asked for the third time in about half an hour from her position leaning against the wall behind Stannis' desk.  
“I'm sure,” he said through clenched teeth, looking at his phone. “I'd rather that nothing which makes us look incompetent was made public.”  
“Cersei would be unbearable.” Sansa agreed. “Any luck with his home number?”   
“No. It's highly unusual. Marya ought to be in right now.”  
“Unless they decided to have a romantic night with no phones...” Her own parents went out to dinner quite often with a “no mobiles until after coffee” rule in place.  
“Um. Well, yes. That may very be the case.” Sansa was dismayed to see him look flustered.  
“I was talking about a date night out, what were you thinking about?!” She laughed, knowing damn well.  
“There are far more obvious ways to be spend a romantic night with your mobile switched off, you know...” He muttered and focused his attention back on his computer screen, Since he was going to be here, he may as well e-mail Selmy the pictures from today.

Sansa caught a flash of orange and pale skin as he scrolled down the page. A jolt of the uncanny sparked down her spine; did she just see..? Was that her?!  
“Wait...” She murmered. Stannis froze. “Could you just... Just scroll up a sec for me. Please.”

She saw him swallow out of the corner of her eye as he complied. He stood up and let her settle where he had been sitting. Ordinarily, she would have noticed that he was nervous and questioned why, but at that moment she was too busy looking at the computer screen. 

It was her. That Sunday seemed like so long ago now, but looking at the pictures she could almost hear Rickon calling after Princess Bumbledragon. She knew Stannis had taken a few pictures, but she had no idea that there were any of her in there. She hadn't thought that she would have warranted it. She blushed a little to think that he had seen her running around like a fool. Gently, she batted Stannis' hand off the mouse and clicked on the first picture of herself that she could see; it was like seeing herself reborn in a shower of leaves through someone else's eyes.

Every picture seemed as though it were taken through a filter of wonder. Sansa knew that she could be beautiful, but this? This was stunning. It was strength and kindness and beauty expressed visually, but there was something in the way that the camera focused on the details of her face that made the viewer feel the photographer's... Curiosity? Desire? Some mixture of the two, perhaps. Was this how he had seen her that day?  
“These wouldn't be nearly so flattering now that you know me,” she said shakily – the shock of suddenly being the subject of a Stannis Baratheon shoot setting in. In all her wildest dreams as a student she had never imagined that his lense would ever be trained on her. For the results to be so positive was just an extra shock to the system. She felt a hand, a strong and callused hand, take hers off the mouse.  
“No. It would be far more so.” He murmured next to her ear. She turned to find his head next to hers.  
“I'm not sure that's possible,” she said breathily – aware of how close she was to his slightly parted mouth.  
“Believe me. It is.” He seemed to waver forwards for a moment, before straightening up. Something in his eyes closed off. “I'm sorry for taking pictures of you without your consent. Please accept my apologies. I will delete them, should you wish it,” he finished somewhat stiffly.  
“Don't you dare, Stannis Baratheon!” She exclaimed as she stood up. He took a step backwards. “I forbid you to destroy these! They're gorgeous! As for permission, you and I both know damn well that you take the shot that presents itself and ask permission later. It's hardly as though you were watching me with a telescopic zoom as I got changed! This..." She struggled for words. "I couldn't ask for a higher honour if I tried.”  
“Honour?” He echoed in disbelief. “Where is the honour in a lecherous old man taking pictures of you without your permission? I may not have been peeping, but I should have got rid of them the moment you signed your contract here. It was inappropriate.”  
“Deleting these pictures won't delete the feelings behind them, y'know!” Sansa could feel herself becoming seriously annoyed. “You're not “old,” and you're not a lech. How can you be when I want you too.”

Silence hung between them. A fragile and dense thing, a no-man's land that two sets of blue eyes stared at each other across. Rather than break the silence, Stannis retreated into the studio. Sansa groaned before calling after him:  
“Stannis! Stannis! Dammnit, Stannis!” She found him pacing in front of the set, a hand running through his hair. “I'm not an idiot, Stannis. I know you, at the very least, want me -”  
“Quiet.” He stopped pacing and glared at her. “I need to... I need to think.”  
“About what?” She almost laughed. “I want you, you want me – let's go on a date at some point and see if it might work out!”  
“It's not that simple.”  
“Why not?”  
“What will people say about you? They will think that you fucked your way here and you will be in no position to refute the allegation,” he finished harshly.  
“I have news for you: They probably already think that!” When he only stared at her, she elaborated. “I'm a young woman working for an older man, practically no matter where I work in this industry someone is going to think that I'm screwing you for an easy life.” Stannis winced. “Oh, you know it's true!”  
“But... It would be a complete abuse of power. Of my responsibility as your boss. I don't want to be in a position to be anything like Joffrey; I don't want you to be in a position to be professionally threatened by someone who should keep you safe. Again.”  
“You are nothing like him!” She grabbed his hand. He stared down at their entwined fingers. “The fact that you care about such things proves that you are fifty times the man that he could even hope to be. I think the bigger problem would be me keeping it professional at the studio.”She half-joked.  
“I'm not sure I could,” he admitted in a whisper. “I'm not sure if I could let you go, once I had you. I would want to touch you all the time, just to check that you were real.”

Sansa used her free hand to caress his cheek. Her breath hitched as his midnight blue eyes locked with hers.   
“So touch me, then.” She whispered.

Something shifted behind his gaze. He pulled her into his arms; he looked searchingly at her face, as if seeking the answer to a question. Sansa leant forward and pressed her lips to his. His mouth was surprisingly warm. After a moment of stillness he reciprocated. She had expected kissing him to be like a fight, instead it was like a dance – beautiful and powerful with him reacting to her movements and needs. He placed his hands at the base of her spine and pulled her closer, so they were pressed against each other.

Sansa felt herself being moved backwards,until she was halted by a wall. Stannis pinned her arms above her head with his and kissed her neck. Heat pooled deep within her; she had never felt so... Aroused.   
“Sansa Stark, will you” he kissed the other side of her neck, “accompany me” his lips brushed against a spot just under her ear which made her shudder. “On a date this week.” He kissed her lips.  
“I thought you'd never ask,” she murmured through the kiss.   
“Good.” He pressed his forehead against her own. He sighed. “Since we're being honest now, you have no idea how much I've been wanting to do that all day.”

Stannis was surprised by the devilish smirk that spread across Sansa's mouth.  
“Oh yeah?” She said. She hooked her leg around his, and slowly dragged it up until it was wrapped around his hips. “What did you imagine doing next?”  
“Hmm...” He pretended to ponder the question as he ground his hips into her. “Maybe I'll show you at some point down the line. If you're good, that is.”  
“And what if I'm very bad?” She rubbed herself against the hardness that was now so obviously straining to break free of his trousers.  
“Then I'll just have to show you harder, won't I?” He whispered hoarsely in her ear. She shuddered and whimpered slightly, as he dragged himself slowly up and down her.

They jumped apart abruptly as they heard the door being unlocked from the other side of the room.  
“Hey, I ran over as soon as I got your message...” Davos said as he came in through the door. He took in the pairs' slightly swollen lips and dishevelled clothes and grinned. “But maybe I should have left it a while, hm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Tis done! Tis done! The deed is done!" The Poisoned Kiss, Ralph Vaughan Williams.
> 
> NB: I imagine Greyjoy's to be a pub chain in the vein of Wetherspoons in the UK with a slightly more varied range of seafood.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, let me know what you think. I'm on tumblr as empress-irony, as ever. The chapter title is from "Your Urge" by Maximo Park, from their second album "Our Earthly Pleasures".
> 
> Next time: The plot rears its ugly head again! More Baratheon-Lannister drama! A scandal! And just what happened with Selyse in this universe anyway...


	5. 5: How Many Words Have You Come Up With Today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, folks! Life and laptop issues happened (massively). Anyway. On with the drama!

Chapter 5: How Many Words Have You Come Up With Today?

 

“I'll just. Um. I'll get my bag. It's in the office.” Sansa, now a furious scarlet, flashed Stannis a brilliant smile before disappearing into the office. Davos looked at his boss with the smug expression of a cat that had made off with an entire roast chicken.

“Your keys. Might I suggest you at least wine and dine our Miss Stark before you ravish her on the studio floor?” He waggled his eyebrows. Stannis scowled.

“Keys.” He held out his hand, choosing to ignore the accusation. He looked over the keychain in his hand. “These are mine.” He scowled again.

“Might have picked them up on the way out by accident.”

“Uhuh.” He replied sceptically. “It's funny how Robert was available to take care of Shireen the same evening I was locked in with “our Miss Stark,” hm?”

“Bloody lucky, that's what I'd call it.” Davos didn't know how the hell he managed to keep a straight face.

“It's also strange that Sansa was in the toilets at the time of the lock in, when she otherwise would have left the premises.”

“Bloody lucky, that's what I'd call you.”

 

Davos only narrowly just dodged out of range as Stannis tried to clip him about the back of the head. But as he did, he could have sworn that there was a glimmer of amusement in his friend's eyes.

“Go home, I'll figure out what to do with you later.”

“I hope a bottle of champagne and a bunch of flowers is involved!”

“Out!” He barked without any real bite to it, as Davos dodged out of the room – grin on face and phone in hand.

“Do you really think that plotting was involved?” Sansa asked with a frown as she re-emerged from the office – not bothering to pretend that she hadn't overheard their loud voices through the open door.

“Perhaps. But then maybe not all plotting is bad if it produces such desireable results.” He touched her bare, pale arm – as if to check she were real.

“Maybe not.” She pressed her lips down on his lightly. “But I like to think that we would have got there ourselves in the end.”

“Yes...” He kissed her again. “I wish I could take you to dinner right now, but I need to check if my feckless older brother hasn't managed to irrevocably corrupt my daughter.”

“That's probably a good idea.” Sansa mind went back to the time that Robert had taught eight year-old Arya how to punch someone properly. Their mother had not been pleased when Arya was later sent home from school for breaking someone's nose. “Besides, I seem to remember a certain someone making big promises about what they'd pick for a potential first date.” She smiled and played with his shirt collar.

“Oh yes, they did – didn't they?” He looked down at her fingers with a half-smile.

“Mm...” She hummed happily before leaning in for another kiss. He reciprocated enthusiastically.

“Come on.” Stannis said after their lips broke apart. “We should probably go before Davos takes it upon himself to barge in again.” A ghost of a scowl crossed his brow. “The man never has known how to knock.”

 

He offered her his hand arm and they walked outside. It was already dark.

“How are you getting home?” He asked, looking around for a car.

“Metro. It's not that late.”

“Care for a lift? It will be quicker.” And safer, he added mentally – knowing that Sansa might not care too much for this line of reasoning.

“Hm. Okay. Thanks.” She leaned a little into him and enjoyed the feel of her arm around his bicep, glad of being able to spend a little more time with him.

 

*********************************************

 

ThornyRose: Houston, do we have kiss off?

 

ThornyRose: Do we have kiss off?!

 

ThornyRose: The tension is killing me!

 

She_Wolf: Ugh, stop stressing! She'll be home soon. You'll find out then. Lemme know and I'll act surprised later.

 

ThornyRose: Yeah, I kno. Wait. I thought u were in your room?!

 

She_Wolf: Nah. W. the guys.

 

Captain_Rainbow has entered the conversation

 

ThornyRose: Or maybe just with THE Guy. ;) <3

 

She_Wolf: FFS Marge! For the last time, me n Gendry are JUST FRIENDS.

 

She_Wolf has logged out

 

ThornyRose: I didn't say which guy , now did I? :P

 

Captain_Rainbow: Ah young denial. Renly used to be just the same. Anyway, do we have kiss off – yay or nay?

 

ThornyRose: I don't know yet!!!

 

Captain_Rainbow: GAH! Tension!

 

***********************************

 

Sansa was still smiling when she unlocked her front door. She had just bade Stannis a long and lingering good night, and her good luck had hit her like a wave on the stairs. Her. Him. Date. Kissing. Seven hells, she had just snogged Stannis Baratheon! Repeatedly! And more was on the cards! Gah!

“Hey there, stranger!” Sansa looked up startled. Margaery was sat on the sofa, with the air of a cat lying in wait. “You were gone a while. Working late?” She asked innocently.

“Hm. Strange story there, actually. Somehow, Stannis and I somehow ended up being locked in together. We had to wait it out until Davos came with the keys.”

“Did waiting it out involve making out?” Margaery queried with a wicked little grin.

 

Sansa felt herself blush furiously.

“Do you know where the takeaway menus are? I really feel like some Pentoshi.” She busied herself by looking in some drawers.

“You blushed! That means you totally did, you little minx! I want, nay, need details!” The brunette crowed triumphantly. “Is the food post-coital?”

“What?! No!” Where the hell was that menu?

“Good, because he should at least take you out on a date first. You can have hot steamy sex against a wall in the studio later.”

“Marge!” Sansa exclaimed as she turned around, only to find Margaery holding out a menu. “Oh, thank you.” She took the brightly-coloured card.

“You order your food, sweetie. But I am cracking open a bottle of wine and you will be giving me details.”

 

Sansa sighed.

 

******************************************

 

ThornyRose: Houston, we have kiss off. Ladies and gentlemen, it has been an honour and a privilege working with you all.

 

****************************************

 

Stannis carefully schooled his features into a facade of calm before he walked in the door.

“Daddy!” Shireen, already in her pyjamas, rushed at him and gave him a hug. “You're all cold from outside!” Stannis kissed the top of her head.

“Well, winter is coming Bumbledragon.” He informed her as he took off his coat. The phrase sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd heard it before. “Where's Uncle Robert?”

“He's watching the news.”

“Ah.” He supposed this needed to be done sooner or later, but he wasn't going to do it in the corridor. “Well, I'm going to heat up some of last night's pasta. Would you like a hot chocolate before you go to bed?”

“Yes please!”

“Okay, go put your slippers on first. Your feet are making me cold just by looking at them!” As he watched his daughter scamper off, he frowned. That was a very Sansa thing to say. Had she changed him so much in so little time?

 

A few minutes later he handed Shireen a steaming mug of hot chocolate and sat down next to her in the kitchen. He had no idea where to start. Did his daughter even have a concept of dating? It was difficult to tell with children's media being so adult these days.

“Shireen, do you know what dating is?”

“It's when two people love each other, but aren't married. Like Uncle Renly and Loras.”

“Sort of.” Had everyone else known before him?! “It's... Hm.” How did he explain this without referencing something confusing, like attraction? “When two people meet each other and think they might be in love, but aren't sure, they go on special outings called dates to get to know each other better.”

“To see if they do fall in love.” Shireen nodded sagely.

“Something like that.” Her father agreed. “They go out to dinner, or they go to see a film, and if they like each other they keep seeing each other.”

“Until they become like Uncle Renly and Loras?”

“Until they become like Uncle Renly and Loras.” He agreed. “I... Want to go on a date with someone. A woman. And I want to know if you're okay with that.” Shireen stopped drinking. “But I want you to know that it will change nothing between us, you'll always come first and I'm not trying to replace your mother with an evil stepmother.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush.

“Who do you want to go on a date with?” Shireen asked, like Uncle Robert had told her to if Daddy said anything about dating (not that her uncle had bothered to explain the concept).

“Sansa.” He swallowed. There was a pause before his daughter's face split into a beautiful smile.

“It's okay if it's her.”

“Oh. Okay.” To be honest, he had been expecting more resistance.

“She's kind and clever, and she makes you smile. And she knows how to play games really well. I like her.” She shrugged.

“Smile?” He hadn't been aware that he was smiling more.

“When she called on the phone. And when you talk about her you get a tiny, little smile. And you smile when you talk about work since Sansa started working with you, you never used to.” Shireen commented like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

He was stunned. When had his little girl become so wise? He set her mug aside and enveloped her into a hug. Soon she would be all grown up and dating herself, and Stannis didn't know if he could cope with that.

“I love you, Bumbledragon.”

“Love you too, Daddy.” Her voice was slightly muffled by his chest.

 

Shireen went to go and brush her teeth and Stannis went to find his older brother. The television was still on in the living room, but he wasn't there. His voice was coming from the office. Robert was on the phone, he gave Stannis an appraising look and smirked. The younger Baratheon was taken aback. He couldn't know just by looking, could he?

“Sorry Ned, what was that?” Robert went very still a moment and turned his back on his brother. “Is that so? Can you arrange a meeting, it's just I-” A pause. “Okay. Thanks. Yeah. I'll be there.” He hung up and turned around. “Well that settles it. I'm not the father of the three children that I've raised, but there are three other kids out there that I need to start building some serious bridges with.” He said lightly.

“Oh Robert...” Stannis began as his brother sank into a chair.

“Don't you “oh Robert” me!” He snapped. “I knew it was likely, but that doesn't mean I wanted it to be true.”

“What now?” Stannis asked carefully.

“I'll meet my-” He bit his lip. “Cersei's kids tomorrow and lay it out on the table for them. If they want me, they can have me. If not...” Robert frowned. “If not, I'll leave them be – but the door will always be open. I'm... Going to use those details you gave me and get in touch with Gendry, Mya and Edric.”

“I'm behind you all the way, Robert – whatever you decide. Might I say that you're taking this rather well?”

“Am I? I just feel... Hollow. I just know that if I stop, I might not start again. It's like when Lyanna left, y'know?” Stannis remembered the crazy burst of activity that had followed his break-up with Lyanna Stark, and the similar one that had followed the birth of her son with another man. “But there's still hope. And I can work with that.” Robert's smile became touch watery. “Enough about my crap. Tell me: When are you going to tell Ned that you've made a move on his precious little girl, and can I have a ringside seat?”

 

Stannis groaned. He had forgotten about that. Robert's laughter echoed down the hall to Shireen in the bathroom.

 

*************************************************

 

Sansa's dirty plate was on the coffee table next to the now empty wine bottle. She and Margaery had a Youtube playlist on the background and were sat on the sofa, wine glasses in hand.

“Come on, lady! I refuse to believe you had this great impassioned argument, and then just kissed and agreed to a date. A little more must have happened, with all that passion flying around!”

 

Sansa hummed slightly, her cheeks a touch pink from the wine and the topic of conversation:

“Well...” She said slowly. “There may or may not have been some grinding and some dirty talk involved.”

“Ooh... Stannis is the dirty dark horse of the Baratheon brothers, who would have thought?”

 

Sansa smirked and took another sip of wine.

“Apparently you,” Margaery said with clear amusement as she got her phone out to look at her updates. “Many times, by the look in your face – you naughty girl. You deserve each other!”

“Damn straight,” Sansa practically purred as she skipped to the next song in the playlist.

 

Margaery appeared transfixed by her phone screen. After a minute or so, she looked up.

“Uh, San? I think you ought to see this.” She offered her friend the phone. Intrigued, Sansa took it:

 

SHOCKFEED EXCLUSIVE: You Won't Believe What Cersei Lannister Got Away With For Years...

 

Cersei Lannister has been called many things over the years: A temptress with a temper, the sexiest woman alive, a body image activist and (if reports from ex-assistants are to be believed) a plain ol' bitch. The news earlier this month that the ageing supermodel was to divorce her husband Robert Baratheon, Editor-in-Chief and owner of Red Keep Magazine, came as a surprise to no-one in the media; their marriage was famously stormy. What was surprising was that it wasn't Lannister divorcing Baratheon for his many open displays of infidelity, it was him divorcing her for reasons not made public. Until today.

 

“We got three sets of DNA in for a paternity test,” our source at Pycelle Labs told us. “We were all shocked to see Robert Baratheon's name on the label as the potential father. At first we thought that it might be kids from a fling, but then [tech giant and Cersei's father] Tywin Lannister's lawyers kept turning up – demanding to be informed of all developments. Then we noticed that whoever had taken the samples hadn't allotted numbers to the samples – but initials.”

 

Initials which, as it turned out belonged to Lannister's three children: Joffrey (23 and a model in his own right), Myrcella (an 18 year old Culinary Arts student) and Child T (a 12 year old who cannot be named for legal reasons). Our source was shocked when all three samples tested negative. “The DNA just didn't match. The Lannister lawyers kept making us re-test, like that would change the result.” Our source then informed us that it was respected commercial lawyer Ned Stark that finally persuaded the Lannister to team to do the honourable thing and let the results be released to all parties concerned.

 

So Cersei Lannister has been letting her husband raise another man's kids for nearly a quarter of a decade? Whelp. There's going to be some awkard questions asked, Shockfeed imagines: “Who's my real Daddy, Mummy?” is going to be top of the list.

 

*******************************

“Well, bloody hell! Isn't that a turn-up for the books?” Margaery said, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

“Yeah that's certainly... A shock.” She changed the subject so marge wouldn't suspect that she had known before. “Poor Robert! Imagine raising those kids all those years, only to find this out!”

“Yeah, it is kind of a shitty thing to do.” Margaery frowned. “Robert may not have been a perfect husband, but nobody deserves that.” Her face suddenly shifted to excitement again. “Oh my God, I need to tell my Gran! She and Cersei have been at each other's throats since way back in the day.” She retrieved her phone from Sansa's hands and went into her bedroom.

 

A small part of Sansa still felt the same sense of petty victory against Joff that she had when Stannis had first hinted at the paternity issue. But she couldn't help think how many people's lives that Cersei had wantonly destroyed with her deception: Robert's, Myrcella's, Tommen's, hells – probably even the real father. At least Sansa assumed it was the same man, since all three of them looked so very related; whoever he was – Sansa felt for him. It must be horrible to watch someone else raise your kids and to be able to do nothing about it without hurting everyone.

 

Thinking of Robert, she was reminded of Stannis. Did he know the news was out yet? Did Robert? She got her phone out and called Stannis.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said in an irritable tone.

“Hey, it's Sansa.”

“Oh Sansa,” his voice softened. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Not that I'm not pleased, but it's been only an hour since, sorry – Robert! Shut up!”

 

The deep voice in the background stopped its heckling. Sansa wasn't entirely sure, but she swore that she could have heard the words “you were that good, eh?”

“Hi, um... Are you near a computer?”

“I can be, why?”

“I need you to go on Shockbuzz.com. Look at the front page, it's right near the top.”

“Why?”

“Robert should look too, someone's... Someone's leaked that Robert isn't the father.” There was a pause. Sansa heard a sigh and something that sounded suspiciously like grinding teeth.

“Thank you for letting us know. I'll call you back.” He said tersely before he hung up; she was slightly taken aback, but then Stannis wasn't exactly full of pleasantries at the best of times.

 

She put the phone back in her pocket, hoping that the article wouldn't sour her recollection of an otherwise wonderful night. Sansa tapped on her laptop a few times before leaning back with her glass of wine, smiling to the sound of Norah Jones in her ears. “The Nearness of You,” indeed.

 

***********************************

 

Robert was still raging when he called Ned. Stannis could tell that the latter was having trouble calming the former down.

“Can we sue? This has got to be a breach in confidentiality, or something! We can't let this online snotrag get away with it! And why the fuck did you tell me that old Tywin was sniffing around and making life difficult?! Why did I have to find that out second-hand, Ned?” Robert spat into his phone. Stannis heard the buzzing over the phone that signalled that Stark trying to placate him. Eventually, Robert grunted and spoke again. “Okay, I'll hand you over.” He held the phone out to his younger brother. Tentatively, Stannis took it.

“Hello Ned.”

“Stannis, hi. Listen, I'm going to try and do some damage limitation, I need you to batten down the hatches. There are probably going to be a hell of a lot of people trying to call you, the studio, and maybe even Shireen's school.” Stannis' stomach lurched. Ned carried on, in full lawyer mode. “I'm going to try and get in touch with the Lannister team and see if there isn't some way to keep the news from the children in question before the scheduled meeting tomorrow. I wonder if Sansa can get in touch with Joffrey?” The lawyer mused aloud.

“No!” Stannis interjected almost immediately. “I mean, she already works with me – so she'll be exposed simply coming in and out of work and...” Stannis swallowed and prayed that he wasn't breaching Sansa's trust. “From what I understand things ended very badly between the two of them.”

“Well, there's no reason why they can't be grown-up about it now. It's hardly like it was with Robert and Lya.” Stannis could practically hear the frown in his voice.

“No. It's not. It's worse.” Robert had never mentally or physically abused his ex, as far as Stannis was aware. “Ned, I'm sorry it's not for me to say anything more – but from what Sansa has told me, none of us should ask her to even think of him again.”

“Hm. Okay. You take care of Robert, but you and Shireen are cordially invited to Sunday lunch; where you will, no doubt, explain why you know more about Sansa's romantic history than her father does. And why she rang you first with news of the leak. Only reassure me of this: Is she fine now?”

 

Stannis thought briefly back to her strength, her pragmatism and her kindness before saying softly:

“Yes, Ned. She's just fine.”

“Hm... On second thoughts, bring Sansa on Sunday too.” Bugger. He must have sounded too warm. “See you Sunday, Stannis.”

“Sunday.” Ned hung up.

 

Come Sunday, Stannis felt sure that he was going to burn in seven kinds of hell.

 

***************************

 

True to Ned's predictions, the paparazzi were camped outside of Dragonstone Studios the next morning.

“How long have you known about Cersei's lies?”

“Is it true that you tipped your brother off?”

“Stannis! Stannis! Are Selyse and Cersei in touch?”

“Is there a Baratheon ex-wives' club?”

“How is your daughter taking it?”

 

Stannis stopped long enough to glare at the fool who'd thought to invoke his daughter, before unlocking the door and making his way in.

 

He was in his office, checking e-mails, when a flustered Sansa burst into the studios.

“Seven hells to Sunday...” He could hear her mutter as she hung up her coat.

“I'm in the office!” He called out.

“Hey!” She said brightly, as she poked her head around the door. “Some media storm out there, huh?”

“They were outside our flat, as well.”

“Ouch. Was Shireen okay?” She asked as she stepped a little closer. Stannis gestured that she should sit down. She did.

“A bit distressed, but ultimately okay. There weren't any outside her school, thank the Gods. Anyway, I have news – professional and personal.” Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Outside of the obvious, evidently.” Stannis scoffed. “Professional first: Barristan loved the test shots and he will be going with Loras Tyrell as his spokesman.” Sansa's face broke out into a brilliant smile.

“Oh I am so glad! He will be pleased!”

“Quite. Anyway, nothing's been announced to the public yet – so I trust you'll keep it in the Tyrell-Stark circle.”

“Of course!” She was mildly offended that he even had to say it.

“Sorry, I have to say it. I know that you're no gossip, but we had a young photographer a few years ago who was sued for breaching an NDA so...”

“Ah. I get it. Sorry.”

“No need. Anyway, that leads me to the second piece of good professional news: Pending a look at your portfolio, Barristan would like you to shoot the second half of the campaign.”

“Second half?” She asked, feeling light-headed.

“It will be announced at the same press conference as Loras' appointment on Tuesday. Kingsguard are doing a Contradiction for Her as well.” He smirked at her only too evident shock.

“Will... Will we be doing test shoots for a spokeswoman?” She asked, still trying to process the news.

“Oh no, they've already decided on that. In fact, you gave them the idea.”

“I did?”

“You did. You're going to be working with Brienne Tarth.”

“What?!”

 

He smirked again:

“You heard.”

 

Sansa let out a high-pitched giggle and grinned:

“Well, bugger me sideways! Sorry, but this is a shock and a half! I suppose we'd better start collaborating to make sure the two halves match up.”

“I'm happy for you but we've a long way to go yet.” He warned her, trying to tamp down on just how proud he was.

“Of course.” She attempted to sober up.

“Anyway, now on a personal level I've good and bad news.”

“Oh?”

“The good news is that Shireen approves of us dating.”

“I'm so glad! I wouldn't want to go ahead if she was actively against it.”

“That makes me happy to hear you say that, because she will always come first for me. Always, Sansa. Ask me what happened to my ex-wife at some point, if you don't believe me.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way. What did happen to -” She stopped herself. “Never mind, what's the bad news?”

 

Sansa listened stony face as Stannis related his conversation with her father to her. At the end, she let out a spectacular groan.

“I am so sorry! That entire conversation sounded like being stuck between a rock and a hard place”

“You're sorry? I'm sorry! I betrayed your confidence.”

 

Sansa leant over and kissed his cheek. He felt his face grow hot.

“You didn't give any details and I wasn't honour-bound to get in touch with Joff. The way I see it, it turned out the best it could under the circumstances.”

“Thank you. You're too kind.” And he meant it. She really was too kind.

“Rubbish. Anyway, I suppose we'd better have our first date before we get roasted by my parents and not after.”

“Mm, yes. How does Friday night work out for you?”

 

The smile she gave in response could only be described as wolfish.

 

****************************

 

Steel_Stag: Hello? Anyone there? I kno its the middle of the day, but I really need to talk to someone who isn't Ned.

 

Steel_Stag: Somebody? Anybody!

 

BullBoy: Hey, sorry. It's just me online atm.

 

Steel_Stag: Gendry, rite?

 

BullBoy: Yeah.

 

Steel_Stag: I just need someone to talk to. Do you mind if I just vent at you?

 

BullBoy: Go ahead. Arya does the same thing sometimes.

 

Steel_Stag: Bless her. It's just, I dunno where to begin?

 

BullBoy: The beginning?

 

Steel_Stag: V clever.It's just... I found out recently that my kids aren't my kids. I've been raising someone else's kids.

 

BullBoy: Yea, I heard man. That's rough.

 

Steel_Stag: Thanks. But, here's the thing. I also recently found out that I have 3 kids out from previous relationships.

 

BullBoy: ???

 

Steel_Stag: I used to play the field a lot. I'd love them, but fall out of love quickly. I was going through some shit at the time. I always assumed that if there had been any kids, someone woulda told me. Thats not unreasonable, is it?

 

BullBoy: Nah.

 

Steel_Stag: Anyway, l want to get in touxh with my real kids. But I met up with my other kids today, I wanted to give em the chance to let me still be their Da – if they wanted it.

 

BullBoy: That was nice. How'd it go?

 

Steel_Stag: 2/3rds terrible. The oldest outright told me to fuck off & that he was glad that such a pathetic shitsack wasn't his father. The youngest burst into tears & said he didn't kno and was confused by the whole thing. His Mum started layin into him n he said he wanted to go and live w. his uncle. Then the second got into a blazing row w her Mum and declared that she wanted to live with me in the holidays.

 

BullBoy: Shit. Sounds messy.

 

Steel_Stag: It is. Myrcella's basically severed her ties with her mother in favour of me and I feel terrible. I just hope that the rest of my ex-wife's insane family don't take the view she does. & Tommen. Poor fucking kid. I hope he does go live w Jaime. He'll be happier. As for Joff...

 

Steel_Stag: I kno that he's hated me for years. Still hurts to hear it tho.

 

BullBoy: U know what u've gotta do now?

 

Steel_Stag: No?

 

BullBoy: Stop feelin sorry for urself and be the best Dad u can. Ur daughter's going to need you more than ever now, so be there for her. Myrcie's strong, but she'll crack eventually.

 

Steel_Stag: Wait, u know her?!

 

BullBoy: She's my friend Hotpie's housemate at Crossroads. Anyway listen: I don't have a Dad, never have. But if your gonna turn up out of the blue & ask to be part of your other kids lives, you'd better be damn sure you know what your doing. Hope hurts after someone's let you down, so don't let them down.

 

Steel_Stag: How? HOW?! I'm old! I'm washed up! How can I become someone worth knowing at this point in my life? I am THIS close to going to drink myself into oblivion.

 

BullBoy: I don't know! Be kind! Be true! Don't lie! You're not out getting pissed so you must want to be better. Get your shit together and man the fuck up! There must be a reason all those woman fell for you in the first place?

 

BullBoy: Sorry, I might have gone too far. It's a raw area for me.

 

Steel_Stag: No. I get it. Thank you. It's good advice. Now if u'll excuse me, I've got some flat hunting to do before I go back to work tomorrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was a bit of an in-between/set-up chapter. Next time: The date! The Hound! And just what happened to Selyse anyway?
> 
> The confrontation between Robert and the kids will be expanded upon further in a story set in the same universe starring Myrcella in the near future. I'm also going to have a Jaime/Brienne story which links into this one.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, let me know what you thought. I'm on tumblr as empress-irony if any of y'all wanna say hi!


	6. 6: How Many Words Do You Want To Hear Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the chapter that you've all been waiting for! Introducing: A warning, a date, and... Well.
> 
> Oh, and for anyone reading The Rewards of Impertinence (and thus aware of my love of flower symbolism), a cabbage rose is "the ambassador of love."

Chapter 6: How Many Words Do You Want To Hear Tonight?

 

When Sansa's phone rang, she was deep in Baelor's Park with Davos in the middle of a photo shoot. It was for a commission from Targaryen's (the department store), they wanted some prints of a typically Westerosi nature to sell at their Pentoshi flagship store. Stannis had thought that capitalizing on the different visual opportunities afforded by the contrasting climates was the way to go, so here she and Davos were – in the almost-winter beauty of Baelor's Park, furiously debating how best to throw leaves.

“You chuck up and in, I shoot! It's simple!” Davos gesticulated wildly with his Oldstone 2230.

“But it won't look right! It will be all chaotic and crazy and fast. It will look more elegant if I drop them into shot!”

“Elegant!” Davos scoffed. It was clear to Sansa that he'd never much cared for elegance as a concept in his life.

“Yes! Elegant!” She half-barked, irritated by the cold and the stubbornness of her colleague. Honestly, why couldn't he just accept that she was right? She could tell a retort was on the tip of Davos' tongue when the A-Team theme cut across the cold of the park. Sansa ignored her companion's muttered jokes about the death of professionalism and answered.

“Hel-lo?”

“How's the life of a big-shot professional treating you, Little Bird!”

“Sandor!” She exclaimed. “Never mind me, how are you doing?”

“Just got back from Asshai, just enjoying my down time. So, did you take the job?”

“Yep, it's been amazing so far! I'm actually on a shoot right now so...”

“Say no more! I'll be out of your hair in a minute. Did you take the man, along with the job?” She could practically see the wily grin.

“Sandor! And yes. Yes I did. We have a date on Friday.” She was suddenly very aware of Davos' interested gaze. “Now bugger off and let me work in peace, you rude man!”

“I always was a terrible influence on you, Little Bird. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up on him and turned towards Davos. “Sorry about that. That was a freelance friend of mine whose just got back into the country; he just wanted to check I was okay. We go a while back and he's quite protective of me.”

 

Davos nodded slowly, some distant bell ringing at the back of his mind.

“Understandable,” he said. He lifted up his camera to continue, before suddenly lowering it again. “Wait. “Sandor.” As in Sandor “the Hound” Clegane.”

“Yep,” she affirmed with a grin as she popped the “p” for effect.

 

Davos' face fell. Stannis was dead if he ever put a foot wrong.

 

_****************************_

 

Sandor looked up at the front of Dragonstone Studios as he pressed the little red telephone down on his touchscreen. Now that he had confirmed that Little Bird was out the way, he could make himself known to the target. He strolled to the front door and held down the buzzer.

“Stannis Baratheon!” A voice barked out, irritably. No dancing around the point. Very well. Neither would he.

“Sandor Clegane. Here to speak about Sansa Stark.”

 

The contemplation going on inside the building was almost audible.

“Come in,” the voice ordered from the intercom.

 

Sandor stalked through the posh waiting room, through the studio, and in through the open door of Stannis Baratheon's office. He had met the middle Baratheon in passing a few times, and he honestly wasn't that impressed by him; he respected his work, but the occasions he had crossed paths with him at Red Keep's offices had left him with the impression of him as a crabby bastard. But then again, he'd be pissed off if he was related to Joffrey and Cersei; working with them had been bad enough.

 

Stannis was standing when Sandor entered the room. The latter snorted softly. No doubt he was trying to look tough in his own territory. He looked him up and down appraisingly; he was certainly no looker. Little Bird certainly wasn't after him for his looks; then again, she always had been what Grandpa called “a queer fish.” Stannis seemed to bristle at his attention:

“If you're quite done weighing and measuring me like so many pounds of cheese, would you care to sit down and explain what exactly your relationship is with my staffer?”

 

Sandor grunted as he sank into a chair. A wicked grin spread across his face before saying:

“Is that what they're calling it these days? Spend a few years in and out the country and the change the language when your back's turned!”

 

A red flush creeped up Stannis' neck.

“I thought you were out of the gutter game, Clegane.” He said quietly.

“You can take me out of the gutter, but the gutter will always be there. But you're right. I'm not into that kind of shit anymore. I'm here as Sansa's friend.” Even after all these years, he wasn't used to casually dropping the “f” word into conversations. The man opposite him seemed to visibly relax.

“Sorry.” He muttered sheepishly. “We've had the press crawling over the place all day, I've only just managed to get them off the premises by threatening to withhold permissions for all Dragonstone pictures for all their rags. Including advertising. Not that I can do that, but they didn't know that.”

“Oh? ” Sandor raised a non-existent eyebrow on his burnt side, the question clear in his tone. Stannis just seemed incredulous.

“You can't be serious Clegane? You don't know?”

“Like I said: In and out of the country all time. Just got back from Asshai last night; I was taking pictures of a group of fire-worshippers miles from the nearest wi-fi signal.” He shrugged. “So spill. Can't be you – you're the _boring_ brother, Renly's only likes publicity in the right circles – so it's got to be old Bob.”

“In a manner of speaking.” He shrugged. “It's actually his soon-to-be ex-wife.”

“You don't say?” Sandor crowed. “I was wondering when Bob would retrieve his balls from her handbag!”

“Quite.” The smallest smile betrayed his amusement. “Anyway, it turns out that my darling sister-in-law hasn't been quite as faithful and long-suffering as she pretended in public.”

“So? Neither was he.”

“Yes well, my brother – for all his faults – never tricked her into raising another woman's children.” It was Stannis' turn to raise his eyebrows.

“No!” Sandor exclaimed with no small measure of malicious glee. “All of them? I mean, I feel bad for Bob – but the number of times I had to put up with the “you have to obey me because I'm a Baratheon schtick” from the hellspawn himself...”

“Yes, yes, good riddance. But I'm afraid it's still a nightmare as far as the other two are concerned. Anyway. Sansa. What can I do for you?” Stannis got to the point rather abruptly.

“What's your game?” He could play abrupt.

“Pardon?”

“Look, I've been friends with the Little Bird for a few years now – long enough to know that men rarely want more than a pretty toy to break when they approach her.” The other man's hackles seemed visibly raised. Good. “She's got a good radar for that kind of thing these days, but she learnt the hard way.”

“Joffrey.” The word seemed like a swear word in the mouth of the boy's former uncle.

“Exactly. Has she told you what happened?”

“Yes. She did. In detail.” Stannis' lips thinned, and his eyes reminded Sandor of an unrepentant man he'd met in jail on assignment once; some fucker had flashed his ten year-old girl and he'd beaten him to a pulp in return.

“So I don't need to tell you that she's got a history?”

“You really don't...” Stannis trailed off for a moment, before his eyes widened. “It was you. You were the one who got her away that day.”

“I was,” he confirmed grimly.

 

It had been in the last few weeks that he had worked for Red Keep Magazine. He had specialised in brutally honest paparazzi snaps; if a target had so much as a pimple out of place, he would find it and present it bright, loud and colourful in the gossip pages. That was how he'd earned the nickname of “the Hound” in the industry; not only could a sniff out a juicy snap, but he would chase a mark to the ends of the earth if he had to. Some of the work he was still quite proud of, the pictures exposing the hypocrites and the liars, but the rest left a bad taste in his mouth. Who gave a shit if Ashara Dayne's neck was a little wrinkly? The Little Bird had been a bubbly, bright intern – scared shitless of him initially, but then determined to stalk him thereafter. Twittering at him like a bird in that posh voice of hers until he replied; hence the nick-name. Against his wishes he grew quite fond of her. She was a breath of enthusiastic fresh air in that jaded building.

 

He knew she hated Joffrey. He also knew she was too scared to leave. She knew he knew both. Beyond occasionally telling her “to just dump the blonde cunt already” from time to time, he didn't intervene. Oh how he wished he had.

 

It had been the screaming that brought him running. It was Friday evening, so the building was practically deserted – hells, he had been on the verge of leaving himself. There was no mistaking the Little Bird's voice. The first thing that he had seen when he opened the door had been blood. So much blood, just pouring out of her back and seeping into her blouse. The second thing had been that cunt-faced rat standing over her with a bloodied bit of china, his goons holding her arms and legs down. The third thing he had seen was red. He had roared and charged into the room; he kicked stomachs and stamped on fingers. Joffrey himself had been shoved into the worktop at the right angle to wind him. If getting the Little Bird out hadn't been his number one priority, the river would have been up five corpses that night. He got her to lean on him, if she could half-walk her could support her the rest of the way without touching the cuts on her back.

“Bitch...” The rat had wheezed from the corner. “...Get you both... For this...”

“You're going to stay the _hell_ away from me and family, Joff. And Sandor.” She spat like a hellion, and his heart grew with pride. “If you don't, I'm going to the police not only with this, but with the rest of my evidence too. Goodbye Joff.”

 

She didn't start crying until he started dabbing at her back with disinfectant in the ladies' loos. And then she didn't stop until Sandor went down to wardrobe to find her something to wear; she was determined to seem calm by the time she got home. He was determined that she would never cry because of a man again.

 

Stannis was looking at him expectantly, with a kind of admiration underlying his gaze. He looked like he might hold out his hand for a shake at any moment. Fuck that nonsense. He leaned forward in his chair.

“Listen, Baratheon. This is what you need to know if you're going to see the Little Bird: I don't care who your brother is, or if your camera shits gold, you hurt so much as a feeling of Sansa's and I will rip your entrails out, use them to tie you to a weight and drop you in the river. She won't bleed again. Not on my watch. Got it?”

 

Sandor was gratified to see him swallow and nod.

“She won't on mine, either. I promise it.” He didn't look out of Sandor's eyes once. The hulking man grunted and stood up.

“See to it.” He left.

 

Stannis let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in. Sunday dinner with the Starks was looking like the least of his problems.

 

***********************************

 

Davos and Sansa pored over their uploaded photos, picking out the best ones to present to Stannis.

“I don't know about you, chick, but it's impossible to tell which one we chucked leaves for and which one we dropped them for,” Davos said at the screen.

“Nope. Can't see the bleeding difference.” Sansa grinned at him as he looked up. “Looks like elegance is a no-show.”

“Better luck next time. Marya's been trying to make me grasp the finer points of interior design for years, “elegance” will be a long time coming for this old curmudgeon,” he returned the smile.

“Did a cushion bite you when you were a child?” She teased. “Is that how you lost your fingers?”

“Aye and truly traumatic it was too.” He straightened up. “Now bugger off and get yourself some lunch; I'll show him the shoot.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed. Without a second thought, she grabbed her coat and bounded out of the building. The Lebanese sandwich shop on the corner had been calling her name for a couple of hours now; hopefully they wouldn't be out of be out of the lemon chicken option...

 

Davos called his friend in. They leaned over the screen, and talked over the various merits and demerits of some of images, how to package them – maybe if they were to contrast the nature scenes with some cityscapes? They should definitely go out and take a few more photos. The nature ones should be soothing, the city ones could be vibrant.

 

Davos clicked off the file. He cleared this throat:

“So, um. Sansa got a phone call during the shoot.”

“Do you want me to have a word about switching it off?” The other man raised his eyebrows.

“No no no, it's just... Well. It was from the Hound himself. Turns out they're friends. And he's a protective sort.” The older man noted his friend turn red then white with interest.

“Uh, well. Yes. He might have popped in earlier.” Stannis' fingers clenched around the top of the chair in front of him.

“Oh, did he now?” Davos was intrigued.

“Yeah. He.. Wanted to make himself very clear as to his intentions if Sansa were to get hurt.” A little of his composure returned to him.

“Uhuh. So, what are you planning for this date on Friday, then? I assume he'll follow through if you bore her to death as well.” He grinned.

 

His boss groaned aloud and muttered something about Davos becoming “worse than Robert,” as they followed the sounds of Sansa calling that she'd bought them all lunch.

 

**********************************

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Message delivered. Received loud and clear 2, by the looks of things.

 

She_Wolf: Thanks, u definitely have your uses.

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Ta Wolf Bitch, love you too.

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Woulda gone round myself soon, but thanx for telling me when she'd be out. Doubt she'dve taken too kindly to it.

 

She_Wolf: No problem, dude. He should take a threat from u seriously. He wouldn't take me seriously til he knew me better. I kno there not related now, bt I don't wanna another Joff.

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: U never did say just how much u knew.

 

She_Wolf: Enough that she didn't want me too.

 

She_Wolf: *to. I'm not blind. Or stupid, contrary to popular belief.

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: U aren't thick, Wolf Bitch. I'd hate to try n pull a fast one on you.

 

She_Wolf: So don't try lol. Im in Nettlestown for the next few days, meet up at the weekend?”

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: You ever gonna pay me?

 

She_Wolf: When I've got sponsorsip :P

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Sod it, consider me your first sponsor.

 

She_Wolf: Thank you! I will get you so much free publicity when I win all the golds.

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Yeah,yeah and u don't fancy that Gendy bloke ur always talkin about.

 

She_Wolf: I DON'T >:(

 

NuthinButAHound_Dog: Pull the other one. It has bells on it.

 

******************************

 

Sansa couldn't believe how quickly Friday had rolled around. She had been ridiculously excited all day. Tonight she was going on a date! A date! Her! With Stannis! She had barely been able to sleep all night. He must have felt the same, because he'd avoided looking at her too much all day. But then again, that might have had something to do with the loud teasing that Davos was engaging in every time they so much as stood near each other. Consequently Stannis had decided that he needed to look over the foreign assignment files _all day._

 

She had got home as quickly as the Kings Landing Metro would allow, buzzing with excitement. What should she wear? She didn't know where they would be going, only that he was going to pick her up at 7.30 sharp. She didn't even know if dinner was going to be part of their plans! Should she eat something first, or not? She settled for having some oatcakes and cheese before tackling the vexed question of what to wear. Because seriously, how do you decide what you're going to wear if you don't know what you're doing and where you're going?! And why was Marge working late when she needed her! Gah!

 

Eventually she decided on dark blue, kitten-heeled ankle boots (for mobility and relative comfort), black tights (it was getting cold outside), and a light blue jersey dress that ended mid thigh. The long sleeves might have suggested something on the demure side, but the tantalising Queen Anne neckline and the way it clung _just_ enough to her legs said otherwise. She up her hair in vaguely 60's fashion, but with a few tendrils loose; the look was finished off by Wonder Woman red lipstick that made her eyes pop, and twisting a string of pearls around her neck. She looked pretty damn hot, even if she said so herself.

 

Sansa sat in the living room, the jitters overtaking her as as she pumped her foot up and down. The anticipation was killing her. She hadn't been on a date in years and here she was going out with a man whose work she had on her walls! Her face fell, what if he.. What if he came back here later? She blushed, thinking of the way he'd pressed her against the wall at the studio. Would it be totally creepy that she had the equivalent of his greatest hits on her wall? Oh fuck, there were clothes all over her bed! She had no idea how the night was going to end, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

 

In a whirlwind, she gathered up her things and shoved them wherever there was space in the wardrobe. Her desk debris found itself organised into nicely-angled piles. She was just fluffing up the cushions on her bed, when the buzzerphone sounded.

“It's me. Stannis, obviously.” She smiled.

“Come up. We're the third floor,” she said a touch breathlessly after having made a run for the receiver. She pressed down the button.

 

She took a moment to straighten her skirt, and smooth her hair in the mirror – generally attempting to look like she hadn't just been trying to frantically organise her bedroom just in case her date wanted to ravage her senseless later -

 

A smart rapping on the door interrupted her train of thought. She opened it. Stannis stood there, a touch awkwardly, in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, white shirt and slim black tie – a sparkling citrine tie-pin held it in place. Suddenly Sansa's moth felt slightly dry; perhaps she ought to have had some water before he arrived, or perhaps it was suddenly very apparent how much he worked out. Stannis appeared to be wearing a similarly dumbstruck expression. They both started and came to their senses at the same time. And attempted to speak. The resultant string of garbled syllables was utterly incomprehensible. They both shut up.

“You first,” Sansa smiled.

“You look... Stunning.” He said simply.

“Thank you.” Her heart grew a little tighter as her grin widened. “And may I say that you are looking amazing yourself.”

“Please, no flattery,” he scoffed.

“I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.” Sansa raised an eyebrow.

“Hm. Well. Thank you.” He didn't seem entirely convinced. “Renly and Shireen took me shopping.” Although judging by the martyr-like expression on his face, “dragged” seemed like a more appropriate verb. He held out a perfect, shell pink cabbage rose that she hadn't noticed before. “Here. I, um, got this for you.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed as she carefully took ownership of the flower. “Won't you come inside whilst I put it in some water and get my coat?”

 

Stannis seemed to seriously consider the possibility before shaking his head.

“No, I think I'll wait here.”

 

Sansa shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

 

**************************

 

Sansa believed that she was in the most beautiful restaurant that she had ever seen. It wasn't as “refined” or as “exclusive” as some of the ones she had been to with Joffrey, but none of them had had book-lined walls! This had a class all of its own; it had an intimate, yet friendly feel to it, with soft, low-hanging lights, small tables and jazz playing in the background. The high-arched windows, revealed a wonderful nightscape of the city from where they were situated, atop of Visenya's Hill.

“Stannis, this place is wonderful!” She remarked as he pulled her chair out for her and she sat down.

“It is rather,” he agreed as he joined her.

“Oh Maiden, the menus! Look!” She spent a moment in enthusiastic rapture over the menu covers that were covered in a collage of reproduction first edition Westerosi poetry, before giving way to the restaurant's name in the centre: Beauty and the Feast. Oh she liked it here, alright!

“Renly said this place was known for it's, uh, “quirky sense of humour” as much as its food.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of humour,” she reminded her date.

“No, I suppose not. As long as you have the substance to back it up.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out if it lives up to the hype.” She opened up the menu with a decisive motion.

 

They ordered water for the table, a glass of arbor gold for her, and a citron pressé for him, whilst they decided on their food for the evening. There were only about nine things on the menu, but that seemed to make their dilemma worse.

“Gods! Every time I think I've decided on something, I'm reminded of how lovely everything else sounds!” She announced in bemusement.

“I confess that I'm no great epicurean myself, but even I'm stumped,” Stannis confessed. “It's been a while since I've eaten out, but I don't remember the food being this... Tantalising.” His eyes rested on hers a moment too long. She blushed.

“How long's it been for you?” She asked. “If you don't mind me asking. I went on a couple of terrible dates after Joff, but not many since.”

 

He considered the question for a moment in silence.

“You know, I don't think I have at all since the divorce. There have been business dinners, family dinners, but nothing like a date. Unless you count our lunch at the bistro...”

“Which we established wasn't a date,” she teased. “But seriously, No-one? You're a hot single father with a career and a cute daughter, what's not to love?” She was gratified to see his jaw tense as a spot of red appeared on his cheeks.

“It appears that you have rather singular tastes, Miss Stark, for – beyond the occasional career opportunist – nobody's attempted to make a move on me in a long time.”

“Hm. More for me, then.” Sansa took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, without breaking eye-contact with him.“Now! I think I might have finally made a decision!” She exclaimed cheerfully, as she broke the atmosphere. Abruptly and deliberately. She had no idea what was getting into her, but judging by the look on his face – she sincerely hoped that it might be him. Later...

 

By the time their starters arrived, they were onto the subject of families.

“To be honest, I can't really keep track of all your siblings,” Stannis admitted. “I wasn't around for so long and then every time I looked around there seemed to be another child there.” Sansa giggled.

“You're not the first. Okay family tree time.” Stannis sat up attentively, ignoring his crab tortelloni for the moment. “Eddard and Catelyn are my parents, right?”

“I know that bit,” he waved his hand impatiently.

“Ah yes, but one must start at the beginning. I hear it's a very good place to start.” Sansa smirked. “Anyway, they got married and along came Robb not long after; he's twenty-four now, and a junior lawyer. Then there's me: Hi.” She gave a little wave. “After me is Arya – ex-emo and eternal fencer. She's currently trying to get onto the Weserosi team whilst studying Sports Science.” Stannis frowned slightly, as if trying to conjure up a mental image. “After her is Bran. He's only thirteen, but he hasn't been able to walk since a car hit him outside of his school two years ago.” Her face coloured with a tinge of sadness. “He's a writer, a really good one. He keeps saying that he doen't want people to judge him for his wheelchair but for the quality of his work.” Her expression turned serene again as Stannis nodded in approval. “Bringing up the rear, we have Rickon. He's seven and adorable, and I never want him to grow up.” She finished with a smile, before taking a bite of her mackarel, walnut, apple and chicory salad.

“Wait.” Stannis held up a hand with a frown. “I swear there was another one. Another boy, dark hair – older. I used to see him mooching in corners at functions.”

“Oh, that was Jon. He's my cousin. He's been living with us on and off for years. Initially, it was just whilst his mum – my aunt – and his dad were going through a particularly messy divorce. But he wanted stay at school here, so he would spend the week with us and go to his father's for the weekend. He generally spent the holidays in Dorne with Aunt Lyanna. He's a bit younger than Robb and a firefighter up in Molestown.” She took a sip of wine.

“Huh.” He said simply, before eating a few more bites. He frowned at the dissolving creamy lemon foam. Foam was just frivolous by nature; it seemed to exist to show off the chef's skill before it dissolved almost immediately. Why not just have a sauce and be done with it? It was a delicious sauce, but still. It was the principle of the thing. “I never realised that he was Lyanna's boy.” Stannis said eventually, when he'd eaten the last mouthful.

“I think Dad always kept who Jon was slightly vague in front of Robert.” She put her knife and fork down on her empty plate. “He... He didn't want to hurt his feelings.”

 

Stannis nodded. Who knows how badly Robert might have taken having Rhaegar Targaryen's son in the room? The son who ought to have been his, in his mind.

“How's Robert holding up?” She asked.

“A lot better since the meeting earlier this week. I honestly thought that he was going to fall apart, but he's really risen to the challenge.” Something resembling a half-smile played over his lips. “He's picked a flat out which is big enough for him, Myrcella, and Tommen – if he ever decides he wants to visit. It's got a few extra rooms in case his other children want to stay the night. He's even hired Renly to furnish and decorate the place tastefully.” With any luck he'd be rid of his older brother within the week. Whilst Robert might be the most dynamic and clear-sighted he'd been in years, that didn't mean that Stannis had forgotten the story of him teaching young Arya Stark how to punch properly.

“Wait. “Other children?”” Sansa asked in disbelief.

“Ah. I didn't tell you that bit, did I?” Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger... He really was turning into Robert, if a pretty face could turn him to indiscretion. But then again, Sansa was more than pretty so he could be forgiven for-

“No, you didn't.” She turned to the waitress taking away their plates. “Thank you, that was delicious.” Stannis gave an awkward nod in affirmation. Sansa waited until the waitress was out of hearing range before leaning in and saying quietly: “I had no idea he had more children.”

“Neither did he, until recently.” He replied, in equally soft tones for the sake of secrecy. “Jon Arryn and I tracked them down, before the whole Cersei mess – before Jon died. Robert's been trying to connect with them. He wants to make up for lost time.”

 

Sansa smiled softly.

“Well, good luck to him. I hope that he's happy at last.”

“Me too.” Stannis was surprised at how sincerely he felt that. There was a time not so long ago when he was convinced that Robert had everything; later he had realised that his brother was as desperately miserable as he was dysfunctional. It was time that he was happy.

“How's it going? Has he met any of them yet?” She asked.

“He's got a meeting scheduled with the youngest and his mother tomorrow. The oldest is currently out of the country, so he's sending her an e-mail; he's going to ring the middle one on Sunday night to see if he can't arrange a meeting.”

“Fingers crossed.”

“Indeed.”

 

Their main courses arrived. Stannis was delighted with his venison, red cabbage and fondant potatoes, even if it was slightly less bemusingly avant garde than Sansa's bowl of pistachio linguine. Well, she seemed to be enjoying it and that was the important thing. When she was about three-quarters of the way through the pile of pasta, she looked up with a look of uncertainty. She cleared her throat. It was important that she didn't mess this up.

“So, um... Feel free to tell me if this is.. None of my business, but um. Does your ex-wife see Shireen a lot?”

 

Stannis was a little surprised, but her supposed that it was a perfectly reasonable question – particularly if Sansa became a major part of Shireen's life.

“No. Of course it's your business.” He wiped a some red cabbage from the corner of his mouth. “In response to your question, Selyse has nothing to do with my daughter and won't for the foreseeable future if I can help it.”

“Oh. May I ask why?” Sansa took another bite of her food.

“You've seen Shireen's greyscale scars?” He waited for her to nod before he continued. “She was had only just turned three when she contracted it, it was a very frightening time. There was a time...” Stannis swallowed. “The doctors told us to expect the worst. We consented to all the experimental treatments available at the time in the hope that one of them might save her. One of them must have worked, because one glorious day they told us that she was out of danger.” He took a fortifying sip of citron pressé. “However when I was asking the doctors as to how she might have contracted the disease, I received a nasty shock. You see, I was under the impression that Shireen had received all of her jabs at the appropriate time – Selyse had told me so and I trusted her. It turns out that my faith was misplaced.” He didn't bother to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“Oh my Gods...” Sansa whispered in quiet shock.

“You see, not long after Shireen was born Selyse had met a new friend. I thought it was a good way for her to get out of the house, so I encouraged it; at the time I was slightly worried about Selyse's overall mental health, so I thought making a new friend might help combat any potential post-natal depression.” He explained. “However, it turns out that this new _friend”_ he spat the word, “was a firm believer in the evils of modern medicine, and had brought Selyse around to her way of thinking.” Stannis' eyes hardened. “She and I had never been passionately in love. We had got married because that was what people did after they had been together for a while, and that was what was expected of us. Really, it was only Shireen keeping us together at that point. As soon as I had confronted her, I went to your father and he helped me to get sole custody. I will never be able to thank him enough for it.”

 

Sansa slid her hand over his and gave him a silent squeeze of support.

“Stannis... I had no idea...”

“No-one does. One of the highlights of being the “boring one” is that no-one thinks you have dirty laundry,” his mirthless tone belied the wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Where's Selyse these days?”

“It varies. She does freelance consultancy work here and there.” The final tone of his voice made it clear that the subject was closed for now. Sansa took the hint. She gave one last squeeze of his hand before picking up her fork again.

“So. When's Shireen's birthday? It must be coming up soon,” she asked – changing the subject. The replying soft smile melted Sansa to the core.

“Late November. She keeps constantly reminding us that she's “nearly seven.””

“Practically grown-up.” Sansa smiled. “Before you know it, she'll be going to high school , dating...”

“Oh Gods, I hope not...” He muttered involuntarily.

“You can't keep her forever, Stannis. She's going to have to go out there one day, and make her own mistakes.”

“That doesn't mean that I have to like it.”

“No. But you can still be there for her when she needs you.”

“I'll be there for her even if she doesn't. People do crazy things, when they're a parent.”

 

Sansa barked out a laugh of disbelief:

“Did you seriously just paraphrase _Hercules_ at me?”

 

He looked away sheepishly and muttered something about there only being do many times that you can see something before you have the script memorised; all that achieved was making her chuckle.

“It's okay, Stannis. It's one of my favourites too,” she explained in a conciliatory manner.

“I suppose that you relate to a certain sassy young lady with improbable curves and hair?” He riposted with a lingering glance up and down her torso. Sansa felt herself blush and a slow tingling beginning to build deep within her.

 

Their waitress appeared once again, with a friendly smile to take their plates. They assured her that their meal had been delicious and yes, they probably would be staying for dessert; she suggested that they could have it on the balcony, which had the bonuses of being deserted, having a heater and the most magnificent view of the city. They took a dessert menu and walked towards the door pointed out to them. Sansa had lingered a little behind Stannis as they headed out.

“Thank you,” she said quietly to “Ros.”

“No problem, love. Now, go get 'em tiger!” The waitress winked before chivvying her out of the door.

 

The view truly was stunning from outside. Sansa couldn't decide if it looked like a circuit board, or like a city of fireflies from above.

“Sansa.” She tore her eyes away from the view to see Stannis standing there, his hand extended towards her. She laced her fingers with his. “Your hands are cold,” he remarked as he lead her towards the seating area, by the heater.

“I have rubbish circulation in my hands,” she said by way of an explanation as they sat down on a bench.

“Huh.” He held onto her hand a little tighter before turning to peruse the dessert menu. At that moment, his hand felt a thousand times warmer than the actual heat source on the balcony. Her supply of words seemed to run dry at that point. Something so simple as the man next to her caring about her frozen fingers had completely disarmed her. She huddled a little closer, ostensibly to get a better look at the menu in the lantern light. There was something at once wonderful and comforting about the pressure of Stannis' thigh against hers.

“I think I'm just going to have a cup of the macha,” he said quietly as he shifted a tiny bit closer.

“Mhmm...” Sansa rested her head against his shoulder. “Gulab Jamun for me, please.”

 

Stannis made a soft noise of agreement before resting the menu on his lap. They sat like that, hands entwined and pressed close together, looking out at the city until Ros arrived to take their order.

 

***********************************

 

Robert checked over the e-mail one last time. Shireen had long since gone to bed, and he was sat in the living room with his laptop on his knees. The e-mail on question would help determine how the future lay with his eldest biological child, one typo or clumsily put phrase might sink any chance he had. For all he knew, she could be a grammar nut like Stannis! Or she might not want to spend time with someone who was clearly stupid...

 

Honestly? This e-mail had been the hardest thing that he had ever had to write, including his parents' eulogies; back then the words had flowed, backed by years of love and memories, now it was barely a trickle. The first sentence had taken him nearly an hour. How do you write that kind of e-mail? “ _Hi, I went out with your Mum briefly a couple of decades on the rebound and she never told me that she had a kid after. I think you look kinda like me. You up for some DNA testing?”_ Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a total idiot. He only hoped that the phonecall to “Gendry” was easier; if he was lucky, this Gendry might be half the stand-up guy that chatroom Gendry was.

 

He finished checking the e-mail for mistakes and took and deep breath. He clicked “send.” He was terrified. He desperately needed a drink. And that scared him even more. He had _wanted_ to drink before, but he had never _needed_ it. Maybe Stannis was right. Maybe he did need to cut down.

 

He wondered how his little brother's foray into dating was going. If he fucked up, then regretfully Robert would be honour-bound to kill him on Ned's behalf. He hoped that it went well. Sansa was a lovely girl and Joffrey hadn't been fit to lick the soles of her shoes. Stannis, whilst not the cuddliest guy in the world, was exactly the kind of man you wanted at your side when the shit hit the fan; he hadn't deserved that bollocks with Selyse. Robert snorted. The Baratheon brothers and their lying wives! It should have been a circus act. Thank fuck Renly was gay, he might avoid the trope yet. Mind, Robert was due to meet Loras officially as Ren's boyfriend on Sunday, so they would have to see...

 

Quiet, hard-working Stanny had a chance to be happy at last. And Robert prayed to the Gods that he would be. It didn't hurt that he and Ned would _finally_ be related by marriage if all went to plan!

 

********************************

 

Stannis had no idea what Sansa was eating, but she made it look _sinful._ It looked like it was some kind of Indian, syrup-covered variant on doughnut holes, but softer – judging by the easy way her teeth sank into the golden red pastry. He wanted to take a picture of the way her lips caressed the dessert and glinted with sugar syrup, the way she had smiled after her first bite, that slow and agonisingly deliberate lick... He would hang it on his bedroom wall. He was glad that they were sat at a table now; at least he had a hope in hell of diguising his arousal...

 

There was something about the intent way that Stannis was watching her over his cup that was... Predatory. In a _very_ good way. The tingling sensation that had begun in her core earlier had spread and begun to crescendo. His gaze was unrelating as she ate. She may have lingered a little longer than strictly necessary with her lips around each ball of Gulab Jamun; there was something very powerful in how his stare turned so hungry in response. When she had finished, they both just stared at each other. Sansa was acutely aware of the steady pulse of pure need going through her. Her breasts were rising and falling quickly with each small breath she took. Something intense glinted in Stannis' eyes and she knew that he was as close to breaking point as she was.

 

He shifted his jacket and stood up.

“Shall we go and pay?”

 

Sansa's only reply was to jump up.

 

*********************************

 

The drive back to Sansa's had been silent. She had placed a hand on his thigh, but beyond that they did nothing. Stannis was acutely aware of telescopic lenses, and the controversy around Robert and Cersei might have attracted any muck-raker to his parked car. Sansa just knew that once she started kissing him, stopping was going to be an issue. She refused to have sex with Stannis Baratheon in his car, like a pair of teenagers with nowhere else to go!

 

Sansa cleared her throat when he parked in front of her building.

“Would you care to escort me to my door, Stannis?” This was it. She was doing this. And it was as terrifying as it was amazing.

 

He nodded and followed her. She was acutely aware of his presence behind her as they ascended the stairs. It felt as though his eyes were piercing her. They reached her front door. She unlocked it.

“Marge!” She called out tentatively. You never knew. “Arya!” There was no reply. She turned to Stannis. His eyes burned into hers. She bit her lip. “Would you care to escort me right to _my_ door?” He nodded.

 

He waited as she locked the front door again, and stalked behind her. She stopped.

“Is this your door?” He asked.

“Mhm,” she affirmed.

 

In an instant, he pushed her against the wall and kissed her hungrily. She could taste the earthy bitterness of his green tea. He pressed his groin into hips to pin her down. She gasped and gripped his lapels to pull him closer. His hands slid around to grip her bum. She hooked her leg around his hips, ignoring the way her skirt road up to reveal her pants through her translucent tights. He ground into her, as he kissed her neck – something like a growl deliciously vibrated in her ear. He bit her neck gently and sucked. She practically whimpered as she held him closer. Her nipped her earlobe and whispered hoarsely:

“My, Miss Stark. I do believe that we've been here before – haven't we?”

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly. She gasped as he jerked his hips forward.

“I do believe that I said that I'd show you where my imagination lead me during the Kingsguard shoot if you were good, didn't I?” His voice sent shudders down her spine. That domineering, dirty side that she had glimpsed when they were locked in together was coming into sharp focus. And she liked it.

“Yes!” She gasped as he squeezed her bum again.

“But you've been a very naughty girl this evening, haven't you? All that lip smacking and licking. Taking your sweet time. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you? You little minx?” His hand slid up her body to palm her breast. “What happens to naughty little minxes, Sansa?” He pressed his forehead into hers. She lifted her eyes up to meet his.

“They get exactly what they want.” Her grin creeped through into her voice.

“Damn straight,” he whispered. “And what do you want?”

“You.”

 

Something shifted behind his midnight blue eyes. Something which made her breath hitch and her heart aware of a sweet and tender something. He pressed a swift kiss to her lips; she felt a smile against her mouth.

“As you wish,” he stated simply before unhooking her leg from around his hip and sweeping her up in a bridal hold. She yelped in surprised delight and threw her arms around his neck, as he pushed the door open with his foot.

 

Stannis lay her down on her bed and stood there, staring down at her intently. He slowly took his jacket off and hung it over her desk chair. Without breaking eye contact, he took his tie off. If Sansa was wet before, now she was soaking through her pants.

“Stannis...” Her voice came out as a whine as she held her arms out.

“I wish I could photograph you right now,” he said simply – undoing his top two buttons with agonising slowness. “You look like perfection.” He unlaced his shoes and kicked them under her desk. In one smooth motion, he parted her legs and lay down on top of her – propping his weight up on his elbow. “This” he stroked her hair “coming all loose. Your lips” he ran a thumb along her bottom lip,“are swollen, pink. All smudged.”

 

She cupped the back of his head.

“You're not so bad yourself,” she quipped. He barked out a short, sceptical laugh that she cut short with a kiss.

 

The kiss deepened. They rolled onto their sides and pressed closer together, Sansa enjoying the weight of his chest against her breasts. She broke away to pull her tights off and fling them away, before kissing him again; Stannis immediately guided her bare thigh around his. Her skirt rode higher around her hips. His fingers danced up and down her naked leg, as though mapping it out. Sansa set to work on his shirt buttons.

“Sansa...” He said through the kiss. “Are you on anything?”

“Pill.” She replied succintly. “And clean. You?” She asked as she finished undoing his shirt, her palm slid under the fabric to slide along his surprisingly taught chest.

“Mm... Yes.” He struggled out of his shirt and threw it to the side. She twined her fingers into his salt and pepper chest hair and nipped his bottom lip gently. His hand slid under her skirt and cupped her bottom. In one motion, he rolled her on top of him and pulled her dress up around her waist. Taking the hint, Sansa sat up and pulled her dress over head and let it fall from her fingers.

 

She sat straddled across his lap, in nothing but her black underwear. He gripped her waist. She could feel him, hardened and throbbing through his trousers. Almost casually, she took the pins down from her hair and rocked her hips slowly back and forth. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. He hissed:

“Do you enjoy tormenting people?”

“No.” Her casual tone belied the delicious pulse of pleasure building between her legs. “Only you.”

 

Something appeared to snap at that moment. He pulled Sansa down onto the bed, and stood up to get his trousers and boxers off as soon as humanly possible. She took a moment to appreciate the sight. Stannis was a tall man and he was certainly... _In proportion._ He got back on the bed and crawled over to her.

“Well, this is hardly very egalitarian – is it?” He fingered her bra. “I'm a great believer in equality.”

“Mm... I would _hate_ to compromise that..”

 

She didn't know if a man had ever taken off her bra as quickly as he had with one hand. The other set to work on one breast, kneading and squeezing just hard enough to send renewed lust straight through her. He sucked at the other nipple, licking and kissing her; a not-so delicate nip made her hips buck into him.

 

He stopped his attentions to slide her pants down her legs. He watched her intently as he placed a hand between her legs. Unerringly, he found the little bundle of nerve endings above her entrance and started massaging it with a finger. Sansa hissed. He sped up the pace. Her hips bucked. He went harder. It drove her _crazy_ ; she needed him inside her. Like, thirty seconds ago. The building pleasure was sheer torment.

“Stannis... Please...” She said through gritted teeth. He stopped.

““Please” what, Sansa?” He asked as he positioned himself between her knees. She could feel the head of his penis brushing around her entrance.

“Fuck me.”

 

He pushed himself in. _Slowly_.

“Was that a request, or an imperative?”

 

She groaned with disbelief. Really? _Really?_ Now?

“ _Please_ fuck me, Stannis.”

 

With one thrust, he was fully inside her. She gasped. He whispered into her ear:

“As you wish.”

 

That was all the warning she got before he started pumping frantically into her. She wanted to tell him to let up, to let her grow accustomed to the foreign prescence of his member inside her. But her discomfort quickly turned into pure, white hot pleasure. She thrust up to meet him, determined to meet her own mounting climax. She clenched her vagina's interior walls and was gratified to hear him groan. In response he nailed her sweet and slow – a hard, quick thrust followed by a slow retreat. Again and again. Sansa heard a series of small gasps and sighs come from her mouth as he hit all the right spots. Again and again.

 

She bucked her hips. He thrust into her simultaneously. They went faster and faster, a frenzy of pleasure in pursuit of satisfaction. A white mist exploded over Sansa's vision as an orgasm went through her like pure lightning. She clenched around him. Stannis managed a few more thrusts before shuddering through his own climax. He rested his head on her shoulder, her arms around him. She was suddenly acutely aware of the sheen of sweat covering his back.

 

She caressed his hair and kissed his head. He pulled out of her and looked up, but not directly at her.

“I.. I apologise. I shouldn't have lost control like tha-”

 

He was cut off by Sansa's lips pressing against his. She broke off and looked him straight in the eyes.

““Wow” is all I can say.” She grinned, hoping her sincerity and sheer content would be conveyed.

 

He smiled back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dives behind parapet* GAH! It's been so long since I've written a sex scene! On another note, everyone should eat Gulab Jamun at some point in their lives. And that pistachio linguine dish? I ate it in a pop-up restaurant in Paris once. It was incredibly moreish.
> 
> Anyway, thoughts? 
> 
> Coming up: Aftermath, Sunday lunch, and a peek inside Ned Stark's head.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as empress-irony if you wanna say hi :)


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